Deliver me, O Lord
by cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Tomas and Marcus are back on the road together, but there are still issues that need to be solved. Tomas isn't feeling all that well and the demon will use anything to his advantage. Even Tomas' long forgotten past.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:_ _This fic was written during the_ february _ExoWrimo and it was supposed to be a short one shot. It isn't, but luckily, it is all finished and will be posted regularly. I want to thank Herbeloved for her help with some of the religious parts:) and of course my trusty beta reader Starrylizard. Any and all mistakes left behind are my own. I hope you'll enjoy this ride and please, let me know your thoughts._

* * *

 **Deliver me, O Lord**

The cold water on his hands felt just about heavenly and Tomas closed his eyes, letting the faucet run much longer than he would have otherwise. He was physically tired, so tired of it all, yet there was no visible reprieve in their near future. Tomas knew he shouldn't be selfish and ask Marcus for just a few days off, to get a chance to get his head straight, but he really wanted to. A few days without chasing after demons, or running away from the Vatican, which nowadays seemed like a daily occurrence. He wished for a day when danger didn't lurk behind every corner, when they could sit down, grab a beer and talk like they used to. With a sigh, he dismissed the thought as wistful thinking.

Tomas leaned against the sink, taking a good look in the mirror. He looked about as bad as he felt and it was just a matter of time until Marcus noticed, if he hadn't already. Tomas knew he was on the receiving end of some covert glances, but Marcus didn't comment. Ever since their reunion, the older man was different, in a way that Tomas couldn't quite put his finger on. Marcus heard God again, felt him in his hands. It was God who led him back to Tomas after all, and he couldn't be more grateful for it. Marcus appeared in the nick of time, saving his sister Olivia from a gruesome death, while neither Tomas nor Mouse were in a position to help. Tomas would be eternally indebted to Marcus for that. Hell, it seemed like the whole Ortega family owed a life debt to one Marcus Keane. At this rate, Tomas wouldn't be surprised if, some fifty years in the future as he lies on a deathbed, the skeleton of Marcus crawls out of the grave with a rosary in one hand and a gun in the other, pointing it at the Angel of Death itself and warning it off of taking one Tomas Ortega.

Tomas snorted at the image then shook his head, mirth quickly leaving his face. He was clearly delirious if he was thinking about such things, and in no fit state to do an exorcism. Maybe that was why they were stuck in this house for three days straight now, trying to save the poor woman. The six months spent with Mouse taught Tomas how to do a quick exorcism, how to rip the demon out of the possessed mind. If they encountered a possessed person that wasn't yet integrated, Tomas usually managed to get rid of the demon within a day. Gone were several weeks long exorcisms... ritual and repetition had no place in Mouse's book, not after she figured out a way to use him. Tomas didn't protest. The training was rough, the exorcisms always took a lot out of him, but the results were worth it. They travelled across the country, saving people, hunting demons and trying to uncover the conspiracy in all of its gruesome size.

Until one of the demons showed him a vision of his sister and nephew, skewered and left at the altar of Tomas' old church. What happened then was still a bit hazy in Tomas' mind and he didn't want to remember it. All that mattered was that Olivia and Luis were saved and currently settling down in an undisclosed, but safe, location. Mouse was there with them, making sure they were truly out of danger.

Tomas wished to know where they were but knew it was a risk he couldn't take, not when he let demons inside his head. So, when Mouse offered to take care of things, he agreed, feeling relieved. He could trust Mouse, he learned that much during their time together. When they parted, she gave him a hug and a light peck on the cheek.

 _'You two need to figure things out,'_ she said, looking at Marcus who was playing some sort of a silly string game with Luis, making the boy laugh and cheer. Tomas gritted his teeth.

 _'I don't know if we can. Things have changed.'_

 _'Yes, you have changed... and so did he. I can see it.'_

Tomas shrugged.

 _'Don't be a stranger for too long. We... make a good team,'_ he said with a slight grin and Mouse bumped him on the shoulder, a familiar glint in her eyes.

 _'Yes, I've trained you well. Don't let that old fool undo all my hard work, will you?'_

Tomas laughed at that, feeling sad and grateful at the same time.

 _'Take care of Olivia and Luis, please. Just... make sure they are safe?'_ he pleaded, touching her cheek gently. Mouse nodded into his hand.

 _'I won't let them come to harm, I promise.'_

Tomas hoped she could keep that promise. Last he heard from Mouse they were settling in nicely and she was ready to leave, though she decided to take a detour before joining them again.

 _'I got in touch with some old friends and they might help find new allies. I will just be unreachable for a few weeks.'_

Tomas wasn't happy about it, but there was really nothing he could do. Marcus took it at face value, shrugging.

 _'Mouse knows what she's doing,'_ he said with ease, then bit down on an apple and smirked. _'She'll be just fine,'_ he said, and Tomas wasn't sure if he wanted to hug Marcus for that absolute confidence in Mouse's fate or shout at him for his lack of concern. Tomas did neither because he knew Marcus was right.

It was strange how quickly they became used to each other's presence again. Marcus still grumbled at Tomas when he woke up at dawn and went out for his obligatory run, and Tomas still found Marcus' socks and things in the strangest places, most often stuffed between his own clothes. However, some things were different and caused annoyance on both sides. The most important was the way Tomas was exorcising demons. After a rocky start with Mouse, they figured that the best approach to casting a demon out was from both inside and outside. So, Tomas plunged into the mind of the possessed, while Mouse was doing her best at the rite of exorcism from the outside. If there was even a chance of Tomas getting lost, well... Mouse took care of that.

Since Marcus was back, they had performed only two exorcisms. The first one almost ended in a fistfight, as Tomas didn't heed the older man's warning and plunged in, just like he used to do with Mouse. He managed to cast the demon out easily enough, which left Marcus looking at him warily, as if seeing him for the first time. He looked almost impressed, and Tomas soaked in that feeling of accomplishment, even while ignoring the lecture Marcus half-heartedly gave him. When later that night Tomas paid the price with a headache from hell, Marcus' awe and appreciation for his skills was gone.

 _'You can't keep doing it this way, Tomas. It will kill you long before we get anywhere close to Rome.'_ Marcus told him while Tomas was trying hard not to puke from the pain. Frankly, at that moment, he would've welcomed death, if only to spare him the pain and the lecture.

 _'If that's what God intends, then so be it,'_ Tomas said through clenched teeth and winced as Marcus slammed his palm on the door, anger and frustration battling with worry.

 _'Damn it, Tomas! If God intended you to die, he wouldn't have shown me the way to you!'_

' _I didn't kill a man just so you could destroy yourself a few months later,'_ was really what Marcus' words implied and just the thought of Andy stopped their anger.

Their second exorcism didn't go according to plan either. Trying to find a compromise, Tomas let Marcus take the lead on that one and they spent most of a week in a basement with a thirty-year-old guy living with his parents. In the end, they managed to cast the demon out, without Tomas having to connect with the possessed mind, though it was a long and tiring battle. All that time, Tomas could feel the darkness pressing against the base of his skull, trying to crawl in, to play tricks on him. He pushed it back, but the effort of constantly warding it off left him even more tired than an actual exorcism would. When they left the house, the man alive but in a condition that was sure to bring in some police enquiry, Tomas spent the whole ten hour drive out of the state sleeping. Marcus didn't say a word.

When Mouse called them three days ago with an address and a request to help this woman, because she was a friend of a friend, Marcus and Tomas didn't discuss their approach. Marcus was stubbornly set on performing the exorcism like they always did, going as far as asking Tomas if he didn't want to sit this one out. At which point Tomas shot him a glare Mouse tended to use when he said something really idiotic.

'This woman tried to kill her own infant son. She's alone, her husband deployed overseas. Do you really think this is the moment to go solo?'

Tomas had to admit he was impressed that Marcus didn't take offense with his comment. The older man just shrugged.

'Thought I would ask. You look like you need a break. And I... I can hear the words again, I can feel His presence. I can do an exorcism.'

Tomas blinked. So, maybe he wasn't the only one who needed some validation. Tomas knew he was trying to show off his new skills, to make an impression; it never occurred to him that the other exorcist was doing the same. Marcus looked so alive during that last exorcism, so exhilarated when they finished it, Tomas almost said okay, yes, sitting this one out sounds good actually, because I can barely keep my eyes open. But then he remembered the worry in Mouse's voice when she called and an image of Olivia and Luis popped into his mind.

'This is for Mouse. We need to give it our best shot. That's the least I can do for her.'

Marcus looked at him, then gave a nod, his eyes filled with understanding and Tomas was glad that for once they didn't have to fight about it.

Erica was a thirty-year-old woman with her first child, a one-year-old boy. Her husband was a marine deployed somewhere in the Middle East and she wasn't handling it well. When the first signs of trouble appeared, Erica was diagnosed with post-partum depression and her mother Bethany moved in to help with the child while she was taking medication. It didn't help and when Bethany heard the boy's cry in the middle of the night and came to check, she found Erica leaning over her son with a pair of scissors, talking in a voice that wasn't hers. That's when she threw a vase at Erica's head, grabbed her grandson and fled.

Tomas still wasn't sure why Erica stayed in the house afterwards and tried to pretend like everything was normal. Her mother, who was a regular churchgoer and knew someone who knew Mouse reached out, and a day later, Tomas and Marcus were knocking on the door of a small suburban house.

It was pretty clear from the start that Erica wasn't suffering from depression, or if she was, it wasn't her main problem. No, the main problem was the demon that took over her body and mind, that caused her to try and kill her own child and laugh wildly at the sight of the two exorcists standing over her form tied to the bed.

That was three days earlier. Days they spent reciting the rite of exorcism, Marcus throwing covert glances at Tomas, asking him to wait, to give him a chance and not to engage with the demon. Tomas held out, if for nothing else then because he didn't feel strong enough to fight. All his energy seemed to be focused on keeping up the appearance, to keep that damn scratching at the back of his mind in place and not let anything inside, while he stood alongside Marcus and recited the verses of the bible to the body squirming and spitting wild words at them.

The demon didn't seem to be bothered by any of it, not loosening its hold over the poor woman. Marcus stubbornly thought they still had time, that any day now the demon would give up.

'I can feel it is losing power,' Marcus told him just a few hours ago, while Tomas heard laughter inside his head and the scratching intensified. The demon might've been losing its hold on Erica, but only because it was trying hard to get its paws on Tomas.

For some stupid reason Tomas didn't tell this to Marcus. He knew the older man would try to keep him away and finish this by himself. And maybe that would have been the right thing to do, but then they got a call from Bethany informing them that Erica's husband was on his way back home. They had maybe 24 hours before they would have to face an angry and well trained armed soldier. It was time to stop playing, Marcus' feelings or reproach be damned.

When they ended the call, the two men exchanged a look and Tomas excused himself to the bathroom. Where he obviously spent too much time thinking, because there was a knock on the door and Tomas looked up from the still running faucet, startled.

"You okay in there? I'd rather like to use the facilities myself, if you don't mind," Marcus asked and Tomas grimaced.

"Just a minute. I'll be right out," he said, as he took one last look at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still red and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. That wouldn't do at all. He splashed the cold water over his head and rubbed it with a towel, then left the bathroom.

"Sorry," he said a bit sheepishly, trying to fake a smile. Marcus gave him an assessing look.

"You picked a strange time to do your hair, luv," he said. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Tomas rolled his eyes.

"I was hoping my dashing look might draw out the demon better than your snarky mug," Tomas said and pushed past Marcus into the narrow hall, then paused.

"Didn't you need to use the bathroom?" He raised an eyebrow when he saw Marcus was following him towards the bedroom.

"I changed my mind. You spent so much time in there, I think I'll give it some time to air out."

"I wasn't-" Tomas started to protest, then just threw his hands in the air. "Suit yourself."

* * *

As they entered the room, any trace of amusement left their faces. Erica was lying on the bed, her face pale and speckled with sores and blood as she bit into her tongue earlier in the day. The room smelled of bodily fluids and Tomas swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to be sick. While he was sweating just a minute ago, the temperature in the room seemed to drop significantly and he couldn't stop the shiver running over his body. Erica's eyes, dark and wide focused on him like a laser and she gave a guttural chuckle.

"Oh, the little cub is feeling sick today? Let me in boy and I will make you feel so much better!" The voice wasn't hers, it was much deeper and held a slickness that just made your skin crawl. Tomas grit his teeth, grabbed his bible and rosary and without comment started the rite of exorcism, more feeling than seeing Marcus standing next to him.

 _"Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."_

The demon squirmed on the bed, but kept chuckling, as if they were saying something funny.

 _"Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places-"_ Marcus spoke along with Tomas, their voices joining smoothly in prayer.

"Ah come on, weren't we doing this for the last three days? It feels like eternity," the demon whined, spitting blood on the pillow and grinning at Tomas, giving him an assessing look. "I'm getting bored. And quite frankly, padre, I don't think you will be able to keep standing much longer. I can just smell the sweat of sickness on you-" The demon took in a demonstrative whiff and its smile widened.

"So close to failing again... so close. Will he leave you to me when you fail I wonder?" the demon taunted and finally got a reaction.

"Enough!" Tomas shouted, his panic at hearing those words, at seeing the look of worry on Marcus' face, it was just too much. The nails digging inside his skull seemed to pause, waiting. Tomas took a breath and crossed the distance to the bed in a blink of an eye. He found himself on his knees, the hand with the rosary pushed against the flesh of the now writhing demon.

 _"I command you, unclean spirit, whoever you are, along with all your minions now attacking this servant of God, by the mysteries of the incarnation, passion, resurrection, and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ-"_ the demon writhed but was still chuckling, still spitting words out of its borrowed mouth.

"You are weak, priest! You will fail and he will see just like everyone else did and then, then you will be ours!"

"Shut up!" Tomas had had about enough; he couldn't allow this to continue, mostly because he felt the words were true. He was scared and the demon knew it, saw it in his eyes and it laughed. Tomas ignored Marcus' hand on his arm trying to pull him away, ignored the sound of his name. All that mattered was to stop this, to cast out the demon and they were running out of time, he just knew.

"Shut up!" Tomas hissed, his mind reeling and all sense of the ritual gone as if it was never there. Only words that weren't making any sense. The demon inclined its head and waggled its eyebrows provocatively.

"Make me, padre," it said, and Tomas saw red.

"As you wish." He grabbed Erica's face in both hands, and there was a second he felt a bruising grip on his shoulder and Marcus' panicked voice somewhere in the distance, before he let the barrier fall and opened his mind to the sickness of the world. His eyes turned milky white and blind to the image of his partner's face filled with fear and rage.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

The room was familiar and it took Tomas a second to realize it was his old childhood room, the one he shared with his sister back in Chicago. There was the bunk bed, a heap of Lego blocks waiting to be turned into a house or a rocket, Olivia's favorite posters of Lady and the Trump over the desk... Tomas blinked, confused. He knew this wasn't real, but it felt so real and it was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels, because it meant that instead of getting into Erica's mind, Tomas pulled the demon into his own. Maybe that's why he didn't feel the scratching at the back of his skull any longer... now there was just dullness and a feeling of sickness covering his mind.

Like walking through molasses, Tomas headed towards the door. He heard voices coming from the living room. Slowly he walked through the hall, his eyes pausing at the familiar decor, at a wedding photo of his parents hanging on the wall and a cross right above it. He quickly crossed himself and muttered words of prayer as he stepped inside the living room, where he froze. There, on the old rug in the middle of the room were two children, playing a game of snakes and ladders.

Tomas blinked, then rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Demons had shown him many strange and sick things, but never an image of himself as a six-year-old boy, with a nest of black hair and a missing front tooth. Tomas was hit with a hazy memory of knocking that tooth out when he fell during a very intense football match in kindergarten. That was just a few days after his parents decided on the divorce and few weeks before he was sent away...

"Hey, no fair! You rolled a four but you jumped six steps!" It was Olivia who protested and grabbed the piece on the board and moved it back.

The boy on the floor yelped in protest and pushed his piece back.

"That was a six! I don't cheat!"

"I can count better than you!" Olivia huffed, crossing her arms on her chest in irritation, while the boy stuck out his tongue at her.

"You can not! I can count to fifty already!"

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Then you're just a stupid cheater. I'm hungry anyway, I'm not playing anymore." With that, Olivia pushed away the board and jumped up to her feet, heading right towards where Tomas stood, watching the scene. She almost bumped into him, when a small hand clutched at her shirt and stopped her. Tomas blinked, looking at the small version of himself, standing a mere foot from him, looking up at his sister with regret in eyes.

"I'm sorry, Liv. Don't go, please."

Olivia sighed and turned to face her brother.

"I don't wanna play anymore."

"Please, pretty please?" the boy said, his eyes wide and so innocent. Tomas just had to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real. The moment his fingers brushed the boy's t-shirt however, it was like something passed between them, like getting hit by electrostatic energy. Tomas jerked back his fingers and took a quick step back. The boy froze, his face went lax and he blinked. When his eyes opened there were no brown irises, only milky whiteness.

Olivia screamed and the sound of that scream crashed through Tomas' skull like a hammer. Suddenly he was standing in a white hospital room and looking down at the small boy whose eyes were thankfully closed. He was alone, the beeping of a monitor the only company. There were voices behind the half open door and Tomas recognized the silhouette of his mother talking to someone, probably a doctor. He wanted to go to her, to tell her it was all going to be alright, but he couldn't move. His legs were like jelly as a feeling of weakness crashed over him. This seemed too real... he could smell the typical odor of a disinfectant, could feel the uncomfortable shape of the chair he crashed into. And when he looked at the boy lying on the hospital bed, pale and with his lips moving in silent words, he could almost feel the memory of the starchy blanket under his fingers. Groaning, Tomas leaned forward, resting his head in his palms, unsure what this all meant, or how to end it.

He didn't expect to feel a small hand touching his bowed head and startled, looking wildly into the still white eyes of his younger self. If this was what Marcus saw every time he had a vision, no wonder it scared him. It scared Tomas too.

"Is this real?" he asked with a choked voice.

"She will leave you," the boy spoke in a voice that wasn't his own, knowingly, and Tomas shuddered, the white eyes creeping him out to no end. "She will get rid of you like the weakest piece of the litter, because you aren't good enough. You never were and never will be."

"No!" Tomas said forcefully, wanting to shake his younger self out of this stupor, pull himself back to reality. Anything just to stop what was happening. But all he could do was watch as the boy smirked slyly at him then suddenly arched his back as tremors shook his body. The beeping turned into a wail and Tomas found himself back in the corner of the room as people rushed in, trying to help the boy.

"Dios mio, this is not real, make this stop," he prayed, as he watched the boy arching on the bed, legs and arms stretched into unnatural positions as the doctor injected something into his IV. Suddenly the fit stopped and the boy fell back into bed, limp and boneless. Tomas' mother was crying at the foot of the bed while the nurse was trying to rush her out. The doctor was checking the monitors and no one seemed to notice that the boy's head turned towards Tomas, eyes open and wide, staring right at him. The deep brown irises were filled with horror over images Tomas now remembered seeing, before the medicine kicked in and the eyes slowly closed.

Tomas didn't realize he was holding his breath, until the beeping of the monitor slowed down and suddenly the room fell almost silent.

"Mrs. Ortega, I'm afraid we will have to do another scan to figure this out." The doctor turned towards his mother, who was holding the now unconscious boy's foot. She startled, looking at the doctor.

"But... my insurance won't cover it. I can't..."

"I understand, Mrs. Ortega, but it is really important that…" the doctor was still speaking, but Tomas couldn't hear him anymore. All he could see was his mother's helpless face, all he could remember were bills coming to their apartment afterwards, days with little to no food or the moving to a one bedroom flat. Memories of waking up in the kitchen in the middle of the night, thirsty and sleepy and Olivia running into him, startled and... scared.

"No, this isn't true, none of this is. It's just a dream, a vision... I need to wake up!" Tomas shook his head and closed his eyes. "Come on, this never happened!" He shouted then doubled over as pain tore through his brain, erasing any logical thought.

* * *

Maybe Marcus was right after all. Letting demons inside his mind would surely kill him soon... if he wasn't already dying. He felt like that, leaned over the toilet and trying not to heave as every deeper breath he took sent spikes of pain through his brain, which in turn worsened the nausea. Shaking from feeling cold while his eyes were burning inside his skull also didn't add to his feeling of comfort.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Tomas grimaced.

'Please, not now,' he thought, but didn't say it, couldn't. He was happy his knees were still holding him up, never mind the energy he would need to talk over the sound of thumping inside his skull.

Marcus took the silence as an invite and pushed the door open.

"I told you not to do that," were the first words out of his mouth and Tomas moaned then spat bile into the toilet. There was the sound of the faucet being turned on and then a wet towel was pressed into his hands. Tomas took it and pressed the towel against his face, for a second enjoying the feeling of relief it brought. But it didn't last long and he sat back down on his hunches, casting a pitiful look towards Marcus. Marcus, who was standing in the door with his arms crossed, looking strangely angry and disinterested at the same time. Tomas blinked, feeling guilt crawling into his stomach, along with shame.

"I'm sorry. I know it was stupid, I just..."

"You just lost control, as always. You never think things through, do you?" The disinterest was gone and all Tomas saw on Marcus' face was anger and disappointment.

"Marcus?" Tomas pleaded, not even sure for what.

"I thought those six months with Mouse would have cured you of this," Marcus snorted, then leaned down so he was level with Tomas' shaking form. "I thought Andy's sacrifice would have been enough," Marcus said coldly and Tomas froze, unable to answer.

"What, no smart come back? No explanation?" Marcus smirked, but it wasn't a nice smirk. "I should have expected that. I don't know why I even bothered coming back. Once a failure..." He gave Tomas a look of disdain "...always a failure." With that he stood up and shook his head, looking down at Tomas as someone would on a cockroach.

"Stay here like the weakling you are. I'll call Mouse. At least she knows what she's doing. God knows you don't." With these parting words, Marcus turned on his heels. Tomas reached out pleadingly, panic overwhelming his thoughts as Marcus stepped out of his reach and vanished down the hall.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. Everything around him was swirling and for a moment Tomas thought he was dying and he welcomed that thought, because what was left? His sister and nephew were safer as far away from him as possible. Marcus... Marcus just left him and when he tells Mouse what a failure he is, she will surely denounce him as well. There was nothing left, only pain and weakness. Tomas didn't want to feel that anymore.

"Marcus!" he called out with the last of his strength and crumpled down onto the cold floor. He was listening for the returning steps, but all he heard was laughter.

"Por favor," Tomas muttered, not sure what he was even asking for anymore. There was no reply, but somewhere in the distance, muted and barely audible, he could make out a familiar voice.

"Tomas, please! Wake up!"

Tomas felt his breath catch as he recognized Marcus. But... it couldn't have been him... Marcus was just down the hall and this voice sounded as if it was coming from the opposite direction. Raising his head, Tomas looked around himself. The bathroom he was in wasn't the one in Erica's house... and he just now noticed the bath tub and the string of bloody hair that belonged to a long dead woman. Tomas gasped and crawled away from the bath tub, until his back hit the wall. This wasn't real, he realized. None of this was real, he was trapped inside his own head with a demon, once again.

Tomas grit his teeth, the weakness and despair he felt replaced by hot, burning anger. He let the demon inside and it toyed with him, toyed with his memories and fears. Tomas thought he was over such mistakes, but it seemed the fever messed with his head and he let his guard down. While he should have felt shame for that, he knew it was his fault, all he felt right now was a burning urge to find that bastard demon and turn it into ash for the pain it put him through, for all the fear and doubt.

Tomas found that anger was a strong motivator. It flowed through his veins and got him back to his feet. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the real Marcus calling for all the saints and performing the exorcism, just like many times before, but right now Tomas felt every word pouring strength into his own body. He stepped out of the bathroom and wasn't even surprised when the hall turned into his childhood home in Chicago. The demon wanted to play, Tomas was ready to play. He walked through the rooms of his home, familiar words of prayer falling easily from his mouth as his eyes caught sight of a dark shadow lurking behind a corner.

 _'Begone, now! Begone, seducer! Your place is in solitude_ _ **; your abode is in the nest of serpents; get down and crawl with them.'**_

The shadow jerked, the silhouette contorting into seemingly impossible poses. Tomas took a step closer, brandishing his cross and rosary as Mouse would a gun, and his voice grew in strength, fed by Marcus' voice coming from the other side.

 _'This matter brooks no delay; for see, the Lord, the ruler comes quickly, kindling fire before Him, and it will run on ahead of Him and encompass His enemies in flames.'_ Tomas could feel the heat that was consuming his own body, but pressed on, encouraged by the fact that the shadow was trying to slither away from him. ' _You might delude man, but God you cannot mock. It is He who casts you out, from whose sight nothing is hidden. It is He who repels you, to whose might all things are subject.'_

Tomas suddenly felt as if the heat from his body spread, the temperature of the room spiked and there were sparks in the air. It was almost hypnotizing, but he didn't allow it to break his focus. The demon in front of him started whimpering and cowering and Tomas knew it was time to end this. He stepped right up to the creature on the floor and pushed his cross onto its forehead, putting all his strength into the last words.

 _'It is He who expels you, He who has prepared everlasting hellfire for you and your angels, from whose mouth shall come a sharp sword, who is coming to judge both the living and the dead and the world by fire!'_

The sparks in the air burst into flames, the demon screeched and the last thing Tomas saw was a wall of fire engulfing everything.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Okay, so this is the shortest chapter, I'm sorry. I had to cut it based on the scene. I promise the following chapter will be all longer:)_

* * *

He came to with a gasp and a bolt, only a strong pair of arms stopping him from crashing head first to the floor.

"Tomas!" Marcus shouted, his raspy voice evidence of the hours spent praying and pleading.

Dazed, Tomas realized he was still kneeling by the bed, swaying dizzily along with the room, or so it seemed. He could feel Marcus' hand on his shoulder and was thankful for the support. Marcus other hand touched his chin, pushing it up gently and Tomas knew he was checking his eyes, making sure the terrifying milky cover was gone.

"You bloody fool!" Marcus let out and Tomas jerked back, startled. The anger in Marcus' voice was much too close to the tone the demon had used and for a second Tomas felt panic at the thought that he was still trapped inside his mind, that this was just another ploy. But then the look in Marcus' eyes changed and Tomas doubted any demon could show such an emotion of caring towards another.

"It's alright, you're back. You're alright," Marcus said and kept repeating the words like a litany, giving Tomas' shoulder a strong squeeze that would bruise, but it helped Tomas to focus, to realize this was indeed real. "You with me now?"

Tomas swallowed, finding his mouth too dry to answer, so he just nodded. Marcus nodded back then let go of him, and Tomas remembered that they weren't alone, that there was a woman tied to the bed, coming back to consciousness, whimpering.

"Check on her," he whispered and pushed Marcus away, towards Erica. He watched as Marcus sat on the bed and softly spoke to the woman, checking her eyes and running his finger over her forehead in the sign of a cross, then reaching to untie her hands.

"It's okay, luv. You're back, everything is going to be alright."

"Matthew?" Erica called out the name of her husband, then her eyes widened as she was hit with the memories and she shrieked in horror. "Danny! Oh my god, what did I do? My son... where's my son?" she was panicking and Marcus struggled to calm her down. Tomas wanted to help him, to say soothing words and reassure Erica that her son was fine, that she would be alright, but he couldn't find the energy. He felt numb and disconnected, his mind struggling to put together what had just occurred.

Luckily, Marcus had forty years of experience and managed to calm Erica down enough to untie her hands and legs and to keep her on the bed, reassuring her that she did not harm her child, that the demon was gone and she was safe. Erica latched onto Marcus, thanking him and apologizing over and over.

"It's okay, luv. You will be okay." Marcus said and ran his hands over her back soothingly and at that moment Tomas wished they were alone, that it was him Marcus was trying to calm down. He quickly realized how selfish it was and pushed the longing deep inside. He didn't deserve the care, didn't deserve the softness because he was a failure. Taking in a hitched breath, Tomas pushed himself up to his feet, stumbled then straightened up, while swallowing the nausea. The detachment of his body was slowly fading and he was starting to feel the weight of his limbs, the pounding inside his brain.

The movement caught Marcus' attention and he looked at Tomas from the bed. There was concern in his eyes and Tomas felt relief upon seeing it. He was still half expecting this to be just the work of the demon inside his mind. But there were no scathing words coming from Marcus this time, only a silent question if he was alright. Tomas tried for a reassuring smile and failed. For a moment Marcus looked like he wanted to move towards him, but was stopped by Erica, still clutching at him, sobbing.

"I'll go... get some water," Tomas managed to croak out, while pointing towards the general direction of the kitchen. Marcus gave him a short nod and a look that was a mix of worry and exasperation. At this moment, Tomas couldn't deal with either, so he made his way out of the room, trying hard to pretend that he was capable of walking straight at least. The moment he was out of Marcus' sight, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. But when memories from his childhood assaulted his mind, his eyes popped open and he rushed towards the bathroom.

He didn't want to be there, the space just bringing up the memory of Marcus, but his stomach didn't give him a choice and Tomas barely made it to the toilet. At least this time the heaving stopped quickly, not that he had an appetite to eat anything these last few days. He pushed away from the toilet and made it to the sink, leaning over it much more heavily than in the morning. Looking up, Tomas was startled to see his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes were red and puffy as if he was crying... or looking into a fire. His cheeks were also flushed and for a second Tomas felt like he was still trapped inside the burning room with the demon.

Behind him, Marcus cleared his throat and Tomas startled, the only thing keeping him on his feet the white knuckled grip on the sink. They really needed to stop meeting in this bathroom, or next time it happened, Tomas would likely get a panic attack. Just the thought made Tomas blanch a little.

"Marcus, I'm..." he wanted to say sorry, but Marcus just shook his head and pushed a bottle of cold water into his hand. Tomas took the water, happy his hand wasn't shaking too badly and wondered just how long the older man was standing there, watching him, judging him.

"I called Erica's mum... she'll be here within half an hour."

"That's... good. Look, about what happened-"

"We will talk about it later Tomas," Marcus interrupted him. Tomas would have felt more relieved if he could read Marcus' emotions, but right now the man put on a mask, his eyes assessing every move he made and obviously finding him lacking. There was a small crash followed by a renewed sobbing coming from the bedroom. Marcus sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

"Go lie down in the guest room. I'll get you when it's time to leave," he said to Tomas, weariness dripping from his voice, making Tomas realize that Marcus also hadn't slept or rested for quite some time.

"Marcus-" Tomas called when Marcus turned and headed towards the bedroom.

"Not now, Tomas," Marcus shook his head, leaving much the same way as he did in the dream. Tomas stood, frozen in place, then staggered out of the bathroom. He didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't stay there.

It was almost poetic how he found himself in the boy's bedroom. Tomas stared at the small bed in the corner, prepared for when the child outgrew the crib that was currently standing empty in the middle of the room. The furniture was so far sparse, but there were toys laying all around, big blocks and toy cars in one corner, a huge stuffed bear in the other. Tomas paused in the door, leaning against the door jamb, then took a few hesitant steps inside the room and made his way over to the stuffed bear. Patting its head almost unconsciously, Tomas took in a deep breath and let it out. The room blurred around him and when he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting on the rug covered floor, half leaning against the wall and the stuffed bear.

He tried to get up but his head was still spinning and he decided that this was as good a place to wait as any. It was silent here; the blinds on the window were half closed, letting in only a few rays of the sunshine throwing shadows on the opposite wall. Tomas rubbed at his eyes then winced. It felt as if he was rubbing sand in them so he let his hands fall back onto his lap. The stuffed bear next to him felt soft under his shoulder... soft and warm, and if Tomas closed his eyes and let his head lean against it, he could just imagine that he wasn't sitting on a floor, alone and shaking after a demon dragged up a bunch of startling memories from his past. He could imagine that his head was resting on someone's shoulder instead, be it Mouse or Marcus... or even Olivia. And maybe if that were the truth, he could also convince himself that what he saw wasn't real.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's okay dear, just a slow sip, there," Marcus held a cup of water to Erica's lips, helping her drink. While they tried to keep giving her water and some food, once the exorcism started, it was just something the demon could spit back at them. She was clearly dehydrated, too weak to even hold up her hands for a longer period of time. Marcus was glad they managed to cast out the demon when they did, because if her husband came and found her in such condition with two guys standing over her, there would surely be some bloodshed. Marcus hoped the man was still somewhere over the ocean and not about to give them a surprise visit.

"That's it," he cooed at her, using a washcloth to clean her face. She was lucky, he knew. The fact her mother came just in time and stopped her from hurting the child made all the difference. If her son had been hurt, Marcus was pretty sure she would never recover, no matter if the demon vanished or not.

With a sigh, he did everything to make her comfortable until her mother came and called a doctor. His hands offered comfort as his voice spoke soothing words, all the while his mind trying hard not to replay the last few hours... Because all he could see was Tomas, kneeling next to the bed, eyes unnaturally white, face screwed up in anguish as tears ran freely down his cheeks and there was absolutely nothing Marcus could do to stop it, no comfort he could offer.

So, he had focused on Erica and the exorcism, hoping that at least there he could lend a hand. When he heard Tomas finally join him in his prayer, Marcus' heart leapt. Erica was thrashing on the bed, the demon clearly trying to flee, but trapped. As Tomas' words grew stronger, Marcus knew they would win this one. He felt the familiar warmth running through his own hands and channeled the energy he knew came from God. Finally, Erica's body arched on the bed, her mouth open in silent scream. The air around them bristled and Marcus felt a wave of some unseen energy.

Then it was all over. Erica's body fell back on the bed as if someone cut the strings on a marionette, and Marcus instinctively looked at Tomas. He couldn't see his eyes because Tomas' head was bowed but he could see his body jerking and Tomas taking in a gasping breath, as if someone just pulled him out of the water. In one quick move Marcus crossed the distance between them and grabbed Tomas by the shoulders, trying to stop him from hitting the ground.

"Tomas!" he called out, feeling the tremors running through Tomas' body, like a mind waking up from a dream. Gently lifting his chin, Marcus felt immense relief upon seeing the red rimmed, unfocused, but definitely unpossessed pair of eyes blinking at him. With the relief came also the rush of anger that always appeared right after the fear was vanquished.

"You bloody fool!" Marcus couldn't stop himself, his own fear and worry got the better of him. Tomas jerked as if slapped and Marcus shook his head, recognizing the reaction for what it was.

Tomas looked at him, his eyes filled panic and despair and Marcus didn't like that look at all. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the reprimands and the anger that came to his tongue.

"It's alright, you're back. You're alright," he said instead and tightened his grip on Tomas as he swayed unsteadily. "You with me now?" Marcus asked after a moment and Tomas gave him a shaky nod, still looking as if the slightest breeze could blow him over. Marcus gritted his teeth, torn between hugging the man, happy that he was back, or shaking some sense into him in anger. In the end he did neither, because Erica moaned and reminded both of them that she was the real victim here.

"Check on her," Tomas whispered and pushed Marcus away. Albeit with some reluctance, Marcus left Tomas and went to check on Erica.

"I'll go... get some water," Tomas said, his voice a bit stronger, and Marcus nodded. He noted Tomas' unsteady gait towards the kitchen and was hoping to see him return soon with the water, but as the minutes passed and there was no sight of Tomas, Marcus' worry returned.

"I'll be right back dear, just rest your eyes," he said to Erica. She calmed down a bit when Marcus told her that her husband was also on his way home and finally let go of him, too tired to keep him trapped in her hug. Marcus didn't have to search long for Tomas, he could hear the retching from the hall. Grimacing, he made a detour to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, then went to the bathroom. Tomas was standing by the sink, looking on the brink of collapse. Marcus could see the back of Tomas' shirt clung to his skin, wet from sweat and he was pretty sure the younger man was sporting a fever. Based on the demon's words, he was feeling sick for quite some time too, which only made Marcus' frustrations grow. He opened his mouth to tell Tomas just what he thought about this pretense, but he caught sight of Tomas' bloodshot eyes in the mirror and decided to leave it for later. Marcus cleared his throat and Tomas swirled around, his hold on the sink the only thing stopping him from falling down.

"Marcus, I'm..." Tomas started but Marcus didn't want to hear it. A sorry wasn't going to cut it now. Ever since they reunited, Marcus was walking on eggshells around Tomas, especially after Mouse left. Tomas had changed during those six months and Marcus was ready to accept that, but he didn't expect the soldier like attitude Tomas has learned from Mouse. It felt out of place and a bit like a farce, but Marcus had let him get away with it, until now. They needed to clear the air and find out where they both stood. Seeing the flushed cheeks and eyes filled with more emotion than he'd seen in them since their reunion, Marcus knew he would have to wait just a bit longer. He pushed the water into Tomas' hand, urging him to drink, but Tomas just stood there, uneasy.

"I called Erica's mum... she'll be here within half an hour."

"That's... good. Look, about what happened-"

"We will talk about it later Tomas," Marcus said, his voice brooking no argument. Suddenly there was a noise coming from the bedroom and Marcus rubbed at his eyes, feeling every bit of his age. He wished they were already gone, settled up in some nice motel room, preferably after enjoying a hot shower, a meal and at least 12 hours of sleep. Then they would talk.

"Go lie down in the guest room. I'll get you when it's time to leave," he said to Tomas, feeling his own energy waning by the minute. He knew he was being curt and sending Tomas to bed like a child was ridiculous, almost insulting, especially to someone who was trying so hard to show him he was capable enough to handle anything. But Marcus wanted to think he was doing it out of concern, rather than as a petty revenge for getting scared by the younger man's actions.

"Marcus-"

"Not now, Tomas," Marcus said and walked away, even though Tomas' pleading tone made him feel like a total scumbag, he was unable to turn back.

* * *

Marcus said a prayer of thanks when he heard the rattle of keys in the door and Erica's mom entered the bedroom, a sleeping child in her arms.

"Mom? Danny!" Erica called out, her voice hoarse.

Marcus stepped aside and watched the family reuniting, Erica hugging her son and repeating over and over how sorry she was, while her mother shushed her and cast an inquiring look at Marcus.

"The demon's gone," Marcus reassured her in a soft voice. "But she should be looked over by a doctor."

"I'll call our family doctor, he is a good man... goes to our church too. He will... understand," she said and Marcus nodded.

"Hopefully he can handle this without involving the hospital."

He didn't add that the physical wounds would be much easier to treat than the psychological ones, but Erica's mother seemed to get the message.

"Matthew coming home will help too," she said with a small smile, then looked around with a frown.

"Where is father Tomas? Did he leave already? I wanted to thank him for all his help-"

"He's just resting in the guest room," Marcus quickly interrupted, hoping that was indeed the truth. "He's coming down with something and the exorcism took a lot out of him."

"Oh, poor soul. If you need to stay a bit and get some rest-"

"No, thank you. I think it would be best for all involved if we left, before Matthew arrives," Marcus said with a smirk and Bethany couldn't but agree, her eyes turning towards her daughter and grandson.

"Yes, you are right, father. Of course. But if you need a place to stay for the night, my cousin owns a nice little motel just out of town. If you tell her I sent you, you'll get a room and the best pancakes for breakfast you ever had."

"Now that's an offer I can't refuse," Marcus said with a smile, as she gave him the address then nodded towards Erica.

"If you need anything... you know who to call," Marcus said with a smile and bade her farewell. It was time to collect Tomas and get the rest they both needed.

He first headed to the guest room, hoping against all hope that for once Tomas heeded his request. Of course, the guest room was empty and, with a sigh, Marcus walked to the bathroom, a bit of worry gnawing at his stomach. Maybe he shouldn't have left him alone after all... the bathroom was empty as well and Marcus was about to turn when he spotted the unopened water bottle on the sink. Frowning, he grabbed the bottle and started checking the other rooms, calling out Tomas' name. There was no response when he opened the door to the nursery and he almost missed him, when a slight huff of breath caught his attention. There in the corner was Tomas, leaning against the wall, curled around a big stuffed bear as if it was a pillow. Marcus would have thought it an amusing picture, if it hadn't looked so out of place.

"Tomas?" Marcus walked to the sleeping form. The anger he felt over Tomas' recklessness was momentarily replaced by worry and regret. Tomas, the man who only a year ago led his own congregation, whose' smile could light up the room, especially when Luis or Olivia walked in, was now looking sick and depleted... lost. And for the first time since Marcus returned, he truly saw Tomas and not the soldier Mouse tried to make of him.

With a sigh and popping joints, Marcus leaned down and put a hand on Tomas' knee.

"Time to go, Tomas," he said and waited until Tomas opened his eyes, coming to with a jolt.

"Hey, relax. It's just me."

"Marcus?"

"Time to go, Tomas," Marcus repeated, but Tomas just blinked at him, looking confused and a bit hurt.

"But... I saved her," he muttered, panic starting to appear in his eyes as Marcus frowned. "I didn't fail. Don't send me away. Please?" Tomas grabbed Marcus' arm, eyes wide and pleading. "I will do better I swear, just don't- " Tomas spoke, his voice cracking and desperate and Marcus' heart just about broke.

"What? No, Tomas, what... what are you talking about?" Marcus reached out, his hand automatically touching the nape of Tomas' neck in a gesture of comfort, when he felt the heat radiating off of him. Marcus cursed, at Tomas for not saying anything, at himself for ignoring the signs. He knew Tomas was feeling down and had a fever, but didn't think he would find him half off his mind, burning up.

"I'm not sending you anywhere, Tomas. I'm not leaving you either. Not now, not ever, you understand?" Marcus said emphatically, even as he ran his palm over the younger man's forehead and cheeks. Tomas shook his head, eyes looking past Marcus, as if he wasn't even there.

"You already left. I messed up and you left and if I mess up now, you'll leave again, like they did," Tomas was muttering, clearly delirious.

"This is different, Tomas. I swear on my life... you won't get rid of me that easily." Marcus wanted to make sure Tomas understood that. He cupped his face in both his hands, their faces almost touching and Marcus repeated the words, again and again until Tomas' eyes finally focused on him.

"I'm not leaving you, do you understand?" Marcus asked and something in Tomas' eyes changed. Marcus realized that was as much of an answer he could get in this moment and that he would need to repeat it until Tomas finally believed him. Right now though, there were more important things to do.

Marcus opened the bottle of water and just like with Erica, he held it to Tomas' lips, nudging him to drink. Tomas swallowed the water then started coughing, but the action seemed to bring him closer to lucidity at least.

"Marcus? Are you... are you real?" he asked once the coughing fit passed. Marcus grimaced, and would have taken offence at the question if it hadn't clued him in to what the demon did in Tomas' head. Of course, it used his image and planted the seeds of doubt about his presence. Marcus felt another surge of anger, at the demon for using him as a way to hurt Tomas, and at Tomas himself for allowing it to happen. _'You should know better, Tomas'_ he thought but quickly realized his own compliance in the matter. After all, he did leave and, when he returned, he didn't really make Tomas understand why... what changed. Marcus knew he would need to rectify that.

"Of course I'm real. That's why I need you to get up and walk... my old bones aren't made for lugging you around," he said with a smirk, even as he grasped Tomas' forearm.

Tomas looked at their clasped hands in mild wonder and Marcus bit his lip to stop himself from walking out of the room, because he needed a moment to deal with his own feelings.

"Come on partner, let's get out of here, what do you say?" he asked instead and rose, pulling Tomas along. They stumbled a bit, then Marcus put his arm around Tomas' waist and Tomas put his arm over his shoulder. They looked a bit like a pair of drunks going home from an all-night binge and they probably smelled even worse. Marcus could feel the heat under his arm and it was like walking with a furnace, the black shirt soaked through with sweat.

"Can we get some popsicles on the way? It's too hot in here," Tomas muttered and Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Sure, whatever you want. Popsicles, some food that isn't microwaved... but first, bed. The sooner the better," Marcus grunted, already feeling the protest of his back.

"Was Mouse keeping you on a muscle building diet? I could swear you didn't weigh this much before," he grumbled and Tomas paused, thinking.

"I'll tell you a secret," Tomas said in a hushed voice and Marcus looked at him, intrigued.

"Go ahead."

"Mouse can't cook," Tomas said and put a finger to his mouth in the universal shushing sound. "But don't ever tell her that... or she will kill you. Trust me on that."

Marcus couldn't stop the chuckle and Tomas looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I'm serious," he said, sounding offended and Marcus laughed out loud.

"It's okay, I won't tell her, don't worry." Marcus patted Tomas on the stomach placatingly. They made their way out into the hall and almost collided with Bethany, holding a sleeping baby in her arms.

"Oh, father Tomas! Do you feel better? I wanted to thank you for all your help," Bethany said, eyes red from tears. She looked like she wanted to hug Tomas, but the boy in her arms started fussing.

"I'm sorry, I need to put Daniel down to get some sleep, or he will be a terror." She quickly entered the nursery and put the boy into his crib, pausing for a moment as if remembering the scene from only a few days back. There were still some shards from the broken vase lying on the floor. Marcus watched the woman from the door, aware of all the problems that still awaited the family and wished he could offer her some advice, but he also keenly felt Tomas' weight on his shoulder and the alluring call of a shower and bed in their near future. Next to him, Tomas' gaze followed Bethany and the child in the crib, and there was a look of longing in his eyes.

"Tomas?" Marcus asked, wondering what he was thinking about, if he was even aware of his surroundings.

"Hm?"

"What's on your mind?"

"I just remembered... when Luis was that little." A smile appeared on Tomas' face and Marcus felt a pang of regret, because Tomas hadn't smiled like that for a long time now. "He always grabbed my finger when I put him down and didn't let go until he was fast asleep."

"I bet you enjoyed that."

"Yes, until he started teething and tried to chew off my finger."

"I have a feeling you still let him do it," Marcus commented with a fond smile and the fact Tomas didn't protest was answer enough. Bethany finally put the boy down and returned to the hall, taking a first good look at the pair of them. Tomas was now leaning against the wall, still looking towards the nursery and the child that was now cooing at a stuffed toy inside his crib. He had a smile on his face, but a faraway look and a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Marcus was standing right next to him, one arm on his shoulder in support.

"Father Tomas? Are you alright, dear?" Bethany watched him with a frown on her face, but Tomas just blinked, lost in thought. Marcus straightened a bit.

"Nothing a bit of rest wouldn't cure, right, Tomas?" Marcus said, hinting that they should get going anyway. Tomas of course didn't answer.

"Our family doctor is already on the way. Maybe he can take a look at father Tomas as well? He wouldn't be asking any questions," Bethany added when she saw the protest on Marcus' lips. Marcus looked at Tomas and the idea seemed to appeal more to him by the minute. He really wasn't sure what was wrong with his younger partner, maybe letting someone check him out wouldn't be such a bad idea.

"If you are sure the doctor wouldn't cause any problems?" Marcus said, but Tomas seemed to start paying attention. At the mention of a doctor he blinked, straightened and shook his head.

"No," he said and gave Bethany an almost reassuring smile. "No doctor, please. Just some sleep."

"Are you sure, father? Quite frankly, you look almost as bad as my daughter."

Marcus was inclined to agree with her, even as Tomas shook his head and resolutely pushed away from the wall.

"I am fine. You should focus on Erica." Tomas shot a pleading look towards Marcus and, despite his better judgment, Marcus nodded.

"Tomas is right. We are used to this, you don't have to worry. Nothing a bit of rest won't cure."

Bethany still looked dubious, but she nodded.

"Take care of yourself, father Tomas, father Marcus. I can't say how thankful I am that you saved Erica."

She hugged both of them, checked on her grandson who was already sleeping and returned to the room with her daughter.

"Okay, let's get you out of here," Marcus sighed and led Tomas out of the house.


	5. Chapter 5

The crisp air on Tomas' face was like a bucket of water. The late afternoon sun was giving the street an eerie orange glow but the world became a little bit sharper and Tomas became aware of the hand on his arm, steering him towards their car. Frowning, Tomas looked at Marcus, wondering why the older man felt the need to lead him like a child.

Marcus noted the look, but ignored it in lieu of opening the door on the passenger side. Tomas paused, taking in a deep breath of fresh air before he slipped inside the car. When Marcus settled into the driver seat and pointed towards the still unfastened safety belt, Tomas huffed.

"I'm not an invalid, you know."

Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to say. Marcus raised an eyebrow, giving him a once over look that clearly showed his doubt.

"Really, I wouldn't know. What with you looking ready to faint again."

"I never fainted," Tomas bristled, then put on his safety belt, trying to ignore his slightly shaking hands. Marcus snorted.

"Right. You just took a quick nap on a stuffed bear."

Tomas looked at him, confused because he didn't remember the bear. Really, he didn't remember much beyond the fact that the exorcism was over, that Erica survived and the demon was thankfully gone. He had a hazy recollection of Marcus calling him a bloody fool and then leaving to get Mouse... Tomas grit his teeth and rubbed at his eyes. No, that wasn't right. Marcus didn't leave him, not this time... that was the demon inside Tomas' head. And wasn't that just great that he couldn't seem to be able to distinguish reality from vision?

"Yeah, you look just peachy," Marcus rolled his eyes. "Is there a reason you refused to let that doc take a look at you? It's not like we can pop into a hospital for a free check-up."

"Because I'm fine!" Tomas snapped, feeling heat creep back into his cheeks and, with a huff, rubbed at his eyes. Why did they feel like they were cooking inside his skull? Tomas rolled down the window and hoped the air would help cool him down a bit.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that. Worked so well with the demon, did it?" Marcus bit back and Tomas looked at him, taken aback by the anger in his voice.

"What are you talking about? I cast him out, didn't I?" Tomas said, trying to control his own rising anger. He might've made mistakes, but Erica was alive and, right now, that was the only thing that mattered. Marcus, obviously, had a different opinion.

"You let that thing taunt you... you were out for over an hour, trapped with that thing. Don't tell me everything went according to plan... I was watching you, Tomas. You... you were losing."

The last sentence came out on a quiver and Tomas gulped. Marcus was right, this time he almost lost, because he let the demon get too close. But he couldn't admit that out loud... couldn't bear to see the disappointment on Marcus' face. So, he shook his head and lied.

"I was fine. I had it under control."

"Bollocks!" Marcus snapped, looking at Tomas with disbelief and anger. "That bastard knew you were off from the moment you stepped into the room. You knew you weren't up for it and you still let that thing inside your head!"

"And what the hell was I supposed to do, Marcus? Ask it nicely to leave, because I felt a bit tired? To take a break? Or should I have just kept on with the _ritual and repetition_?" Tomas said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He shook his head, tired from the need to explain himself. "We didn't have time for that."

Tomas suddenly wished Mouse was there, running interference. He wouldn't need to explain himself to her... after all, this was how they worked all those months. They were either looking for contacts or interrogating integrated people... sometimes Tomas got a chance to actually save a soul. Mouse never asked him to go slow, quite the contrary. Time was of the essence. Tomas got used to the speed, to being always in motion, to always feeling strung out with energy from a successful hunt, while at the same time feeling dead tired on his feet. But now Mouse was gone on a mission of her own, Marcus was back and Tomas was confused, because it seemed like old times, but it was far from that. He had changed... the way he dealt with demons was different from the way Marcus wanted to deal with them and they were clashing nonstop. Something had to give, but at this moment it felt that the only thing giving up was Tomas' body.

"I thought Mouse would have taught you some self-preservation," Marcus spoke out of the blue. "Looks like I was wrong."

Hearing that was like getting hit in the stomach and Tomas felt all the anger and frustration from the last several months surge up. He turned in his seat to face Marcus, bristling.

"You have _no_ _right_ to talk about Mouse, or about those last six months, Marcus," he spoke, his voice low and dangerous, one hand grasping the dashboard, the other curled around the seatbelt. "You left. You left when I needed you the most!"

Marcus swallowed, looking away. Yes, he left and maybe he should have stayed, but Tomas needed to understand that he couldn't. Not then.

"I was of no help to you, Tomas," Marcus said and his voice shook slightly. "I was compromised. Would have just dragged you down with me."

Tomas let out a harsh chuckle and shook his head.

"Compromised..." he muttered, smiling, but there was no mirth in his eyes, only sadness. "Do you even know what that is, Marcus? Because I do. Mouse knows it too. You were so afraid of being compromised, but in fact, it was Mouse and me who let the demons inside our minds. We let them in, let them scratch and stain our souls, all the time thinking we were the righteous ones."

"Tomas-"

"No, Marcus," Tomas shook his head. "You were gone and Mouse was there to pick up the pieces. She did what she thought was the best for the mission, what was best for us. You were right in one thing. I needed a training you couldn't give. Don't complain about the results."

There was nothing else to be said, nothing that wouldn't cut too deep, and Tomas had enough presence of a mind to realize that. Marcus didn't answer. He started the engine and the car pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence, the air inside the car heavy and uncomfortable, feeling like a wet blanket to Tomas. So, he leaned against the door, head right next to the open window and watched the passing streets and people with half lidded eyes, running the words he spoke over and over in his head, wondering if maybe he did it again, maybe he managed to push Marcus away for good. The continuing silence from the driver's seat wasn't encouraging and Tomas sighed. Well, if Marcus changed his mind about staying, it was best to find out right now... before Tomas forgot how it felt to be abandoned, once again.

Marcus was throwing covert glances at Tomas, several times opening his mouth to say something, to explain how he felt about the whole Tomas-letting-demons-in thing, but each time he looked at Tomas, all he saw was the frown on the younger man's face, the half-closed eyes and the slightly shaking hands. So, instead he gripped the wheel tighter and focused on the road, trying to ignore the pang of guilt he felt about losing his temper at the wrong moment. Tomas' words left a bitter taste on his own tongue. He indeed left him in the hands of Mouse, so what right did he have to complain? But Marcus knew his outburst wasn't as much a criticism as worry, and perhaps that was even harder to explain to the strong-headed young priest.

With a huff of breath and a slight shake of head, Marcus spotted a small 7-eleven on their way, with an empty parking space. Without much thought, he pulled over and parked the car.

Tomas turned his head in confusion.

"This isn't a motel."

"No, but I thought we might get something to eat before we crash. Do you want to come inside or get something for later?" Marcus asked, voice neutral, as if their earlier conversation never happened. Tomas' face scrunched up in a grimace and he shook his head.

"Grab something for later, please."

Marcus nodded, expecting that answer. Still, at least Tomas was talking to him.

"Any preference?"

Tomas just shrugged, not really caring for food right now.

"Whatever's good."

Marcus rolled his eyes and was tempted to bring him the spiciest thing the shop had to offer, but he was sure Tomas would eat it without blinking an eye and repay him next time in kind. At least that was how their last take out ended. With a shrug, he left Tomas in the car and went shopping. Marcus paused at the isle with the medicine section, but the offer was huge and puzzling and he wasn't sure Tomas would even take anything except some Tylenol, which they already had. Instead he headed for the isle with the alcohol, grabbing a bottle of gin. He felt he would need it if he was to be stuck with a grumpy Tomas for a bit longer.

Five minutes later and twenty bucks lighter, Marcus put the bag of shopping in the back of the truck and sat behind the wheel. Tomas was leaning with his head back on the seat, eyes closed. He popped them open when he heard the car door slam closed, but didn't otherwise react and Marcus bit back the urge to reach out and check his temp. He doubted Tomas would appreciate it after their little row.

"You alright?" he asked after a moment, as he turned the car towards the address of the motel Bethany gave him. Tomas left his eyes closed and gave a grunt of consent, which was obviously all Marcus was going to get right now.

By the time they arrived at the motel, the sun had settled and it was dark. Thankfully, Bethany was right. The moment Marcus uttered her name, the clerk at the desk gave him a wide grin and handed him a key.

"Bethany called ahead, told us to expect you. The room is yours for two days, if you need longer, just let us know."

No questions were asked and the clerk didn't even want any money. Marcus sent a silent prayer towards Bethany and went to fetch Tomas, who was half asleep in the car.

"We got a room for a couple nights, compliments of Bethany. Come on, sleepyhead. Think you can manage?"

Tomas gave Marcus a half-assed glare and got out of the car, ignoring the offered hand. He slowly leaned over and took his backpack from the truck, then without words headed inside the lobby. Marcus shrugged, then grabbed his own pack and the bag of food and quickly caught up with Tomas, who paused, unsure where to go.

Marcus was of half a mind to just let him fumble and wait until Tomas had the decency to speak, but he felt too tired himself to play that game. Taking the lead, he walked down a hall, instinctively taking in all the exits. He wasn't that happy about the fact they needed to go through the lobby and didn't have their own exit, but when he opened the door to their room, some of his irritation went away.

It wasn't one of the dumps they were lately used to frequenting. This one actually looked recently renovated, with a thick carpet, crisp white sheets and even a flat screen TV. The thing that made Marcus the happiest though was the coffee maker and the microwave.

While Marcus set the bag with the groceries on the small table in the corner of the room, Tomas stumbled towards the bed by the wall and sat down heavily, leaning over and resting his head on his hands.

Marcus ruffled through the content of the bag in silence, until he found the bottle of ginger ale and some crackers. Opening the crackers, he put one in his mouth, chewing it loudly, while watching as Tomas winced at the sound. The young priest looked about done in and Marcus felt exhausted just from looking at him.

While Marcus was still fuming over what happened at the house and what Tomas told him in the car, he knew part of that was his own fault. He let Tomas down and even though the man didn't openly hold any grudge against him, it was clear that the trust between them had been damaged. If Marcus wanted things to work, they needed to clear the air.

Grabbing the crackers and the ginger ale, Marcus made his way over to the other bed and sat down opposite Tomas.

"Crackers?" he asked and pushed the pack towards Tomas, who looked up, bleary eyed.

"Huh?" he frowned, staring at the opened packet with some confusion. Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"You need some food. This was the plainest thing they had."

"I'm not hungry," Tomas finally muttered, straightening a bit and letting his hands fall back down to his knees. He looked around as if just realizing they were in the motel room.

"I wasn't asking," Marcus growled and pushed the packet at him until Tomas relented and took out one cracker, nibbling at it without interest. Marcus opened the bottle of ginger ale and held it out to Tomas as if it was some kind of peace offering. Tomas pointedly ignored it, along with the rest of the crackers. Marcus sighed and shook his head.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but in the state of mind he was in, Tomas took it personally. His whole body tensed and he looked up at Marcus with a hint of panic.

"Don't."

"Don't what, Tomas?" Marcus asked with a frown.

"Don't go," Tomas said in a small voice. Marcus closed his eyes for a second, then reached out, putting his hand on Tomas' knee.

"I'm not going anywhere Tomas. I promise," Marcus said softly, squeezing the knee in reassurance, though he knew he would have to prove himself until Tomas finally believed him. How could he explain that everything was different now that God himself spoke to him and led him back to Tomas?

"But you already left. Why?" It was like talking to a child. Marcus knew it was probably just the fever messing with Tomas' head, but he decided to answer anyway.

"I thought you were better off without me, safer," Marcus sighed. "Should have known you and Mouse were trouble magnets," he added with a grin.

"You don't know the half of it," Tomas admitted with seriousness that made Marcus want to call up Mouse and request a written report on the last six months. He felt a sudden pang of understanding for Bennett's frustration in their dealings. But Bennett was currently another painful subject he didn't want to breach.

"Why did you come back?" came another question, and the answer to this one seemed a bit trickier. Marcus bit at his lower lip then made sure Tomas was looking at him as he answered.

"God brought me back to you, Tomas. I'm not leaving." He added for good measure.

"Are you sure it was God?" Tomas asked, much in the same way as Marcus questioned the origin of his visions when they first met.

"As sure as I can be," Marcus admitted with a slight incline of his head. How could a man be sure of anything these days, much less the presence of God? But if there was one thing Marcus would bet his life on, it was this. He told Tomas so. There was a moment of silence and Marcus could see Tomas thinking about his next question. By the way his forehead scrunched up and the way he grasped at the edge of the bed, Marcus knew this would be the question that mattered the most.

"Would you have returned if it wasn't for the mission?" Tomas finally asked and Marcus felt his chest tighten and throat close up

"Oh Tomas..." Marcus reached out and cupped Tomas' face in both hands, locking his gaze.

I wouldn't have _left_ if it wasn't for the mission. I didn't want to endanger you, to hold you back. I was blinded by guilt and fear... so I ran."

Tomas seemed to take in the answer. He swallowed, looking down at his hands. Marcus released the hold on his face, instead letting his hands rest on Tomas knees.

"I thought you run only when someone's chasing you," Tomas spoke after a moment.

Marcus snorted, then sniffled and shook his head. Tomas looked up at the sound, frowning when he saw Marcus' eyes glistening with unshed tears, and a small apologetic smirk on his face.

"I thought I'd give it a try..." Marcus admitted.

"And... how did it work out for you?"

Marcus shrugged.

"For a while, it did. Then I realized it really wasn't for me. Think I'd rather stick to going on adventures with a stubborn priest." Marcus put his hand on Tomas' neck in comfort, to make sure he understood. Tomas looked at him with half lidded eyes and their eyes locked for a minute, Tomas' eyes piercing, as if trying to look deep into his soul. Marcus hoped he found what he was looking for. He cleared his throat and stood up, his hand gently running over the top of Tomas' hair.

"Your fever's up. Sure you don't want to eat something?"

Tomas shook his head then winced when the motion made him dizzy. Marcus handed him the bottle of ginger ale and this time Tomas took a sip, hoping it would help settle his stomach. His eyes were half closed, so he didn't see the look of concern in Marcus eyes, but he could hear the weariness in his voice.

"Why don't you go wash up a bit, and then lie down? I think we can both use some sleep."

Tomas couldn't agree more.


	6. Chapter 6

When Tomas was finally settled and seemingly close to sleep, Marcus went to take a shower of his own, happy to be able to wash off the sweat and grime of the last few days. His mind kept replaying the conversation with Tomas and he wondered if the younger man would even remember any of it when he woke up. With a sigh, Marcus thought it didn't matter. He would just have to make sure Tomas accepted his return and started trusting him enough to admit weakness or doubt. They had to learn how to work together in a new, different dynamic, for the sake of survival if nothing else. Otherwise there was a high risk that they would drive each other mad long before the demons managed to get their hands on them.

Marcus stepped out of the bathroom and noted that Tomas hadn't moved since he'd fallen onto the bed, still lying on his side, only in his jogging pants, shirtless. With a sigh, he walked up to his partner, checking if he was even breathing.

"You asleep?" Marcus asked quietly, running a hand over the feverish forehead. A bleary pair of eyes opened to a slit.

"Hm?"

"Just checking if I can cook some eggs on you or if I need to use the stove," Marcus said jokingly. He got a grumble in reply and Tomas turned so he was now lying on his back, grimacing at the light coming from the bedside lamp.

"We are out of eggs," he muttered and threw a hand over his eyes. Marcus rolled his eyes and headed back to the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a damp towel. He pulled Tomas' arm off his face, ignoring the grumble and instead put the cold towel on his forehead, which also partially blocked out the light. There was a thankful sigh, then a muttered 'gracias'.

"De nada, hermano," Marcus replied then made his way towards the other bed and lay down. The bedside lamp was turned off and Marcus let out a sigh of pure relief as he could finally stretch out on the soft bed, allowing his weary body some rest. As it was bound to happen when one was so tired however, Marcus' mind took a while to turn off and relax. He tossed and turned on the bed, too tired to fall into deep sleep. Almost an hour later, he was finally on the verge of sleep. He was just a breath away from sweet nothingness, when his senses caught some movement. Marcus tried to ignore it and he was quite successful, until he felt a rush of cold air on his face and his eyelids were flooded with light. Scrunching up his face and groaning, feeling as if someone just hit him with a hammer, Marcus blinked open an eye, only to see the familiar figure walking out of the room.

"Tomas?" Marcus asked, confused. He heard a startled yelp of a woman and he was out of the bed so quickly his head spun. He rushed out the door, frowning at the weird sight of a shirtless Tomas wandering down the hall, while a young woman was standing flush to the wall, looking startled.

"You alright, dear?" Marcus asked automatically and the woman nodded, pulling out a key to another room, brandishing it in the air like a weapon. Marcus raised his arms in a sign that he posed no threat. "Hey, we mean no harm. My friend here is just not feeling well..." and he moved past her, glad that Tomas was walking slowly.

"I just... got startled," the woman said, now looking embarrassed. Marcus nodded at her and when she put the key into the door next to theirs, he thought there was no more need for pleasantries and jogged the few meters to catch up with Tomas.

"Hey, mate, where you going?" he carefully put his hand on Tomas' shoulder, grimacing at the heat, but thankful that Tomas didn't react with violence. Instead, he blinked, eyes hazy and unfocused, but still brown instead of the milky white.

Marcus stood before him, effectively blocking his way and so Tomas stopped too.

"Tomas? What are you doing?" Marcus asked again.

"Demasiado calor... necesito aire," Tomas muttered and tried to push past Marcus, towards the door leading to the lobby.

"Hey, I know you are hot, but you can't just go traipsing around half naked. You're scaring the other guests," Marcus tried to keep his tone light and gently steered Tomas back towards their room, but Tomas frowned and stood stock still.

"Demasiado calor..." he repeated and Marcus found that when Tomas didn't want to move, he couldn't budge him. Marcus sighed, running a tired hand over his face, glad that at least the woman had vanished behind the door. He just hoped she wasn't calling the guy at the desk, or worse, the cops.

"Come on, Tomas. There's a cold glass of water with your name on it. Aren't you thirsty?"

Tomas frowned, his tongue subconsciously licking at too dry lips.

"Agua?"

"Si, vaso de agua fría," Marcus agreed eagerly. "Come on, mate. You'll feel better after you drink something, yeah?"

Tomas muttered something unintelligible, his eyes closing as he swayed. Marcus cursed and grabbed him around the waist, heaving one arm over his shoulder.

"Okay, you're done in," Marcus said and half led, half dragged Tomas back to their room. By the time they reached Tomas' bed, he was almost out cold again and Marcus was cursing, feeling his own back protest at the weight on his shoulders. He not so gently deposited Tomas on his bed and stretched with a groan.

He wondered if Tomas kept up his record of being out cold while he was with Mouse and if so, how did she manage to lug him around. Probably just threw cold water on his face. Snorting, Marcus went to grab the promised glass of water... not really that cold because there was no fridge in this room, but for someone with a fever it might feel frigid enough. He stood over the slumped form on the bed and for a moment really considered just pouring the water on Tomas, he needed to get cooled down anyway. But then there was the nagging voice inside his head, telling him to not be an ass and it strangely sounded a lot like Tomas. With a sigh, and knowing he needed some sleep of his own if he now had Tomas' voice in his head sounding like his conscience, Marcus gently shook Tomas' shoulder to try and wake him up. Or at least get him semi-awake enough to drink the damn water and swallow some aspirin. The fever needed to go, if not for Tomas' sake then for Marcus' own sanity. He managed to coax Tomas into a half sitting position and pushed the pills against his lips.

"That's it," he let out a sigh of relief when Tomas at least seemed to grasp the concept of taking the meds. The glass of water was gulped down much more eagerly and Marcus fetched another one. Tomas' skin was dry, which didn't bode well for the fever and Marcus found himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, putting another cold compress over Tomas' brow, while the young man kept muttering under his breath. At one point, Marcus caught the word abuela and grimaced, hoping that Tomas wasn't caught in some nightmare.

Running his hand through Tomas' hair in a soothing manner, Marcus hoped this illness was indeed just a result of too much stress, not enough sleep, and being non-stop on the road. Exhaustion he could deal with. Anything more serious would require a hospital visit, which would just put them in more danger. They couldn't really afford that, not after what happened to Bennett and what went down in Chicago. So, Marcus patiently changed the compress on Tomas' head and slid down to the floor, resting his back against the wall, sitting right next to Tomas' bed, while keeping a hand on a much too warm arm. The contact at least seemed to relax Tomas as his mumbling became less pronounced. When it seemed Tomas had fallen back into deep sleep, Marcus yawned and looked at the clock. It read 3 am.

"Great. Half the night is gone," he muttered and stood, cursing when he felt the pins and needles in his leg which had fallen asleep. Half hopping, half limping, Marcus headed towards his bed, when he had a change of mind. He grabbed one of the two chairs their motel room was equipped with, and which was now serving as a stool for their clothes, and dragged it towards the door. Just in case Tomas got a great idea of trying to leave the room again. Once Marcus was sure his trap was in the right place, he lay back down in his bed and turned off the bedside lamp.

This time he at least got an hour of good sleep, though that was little consolation when he was startled from his slumber by the sound of a crash and a groan. Jumping out of the bed, his heart beating wildly in his chest, Marcus fumbled for the light switch then squinted when the bedside lamp lit up the room. Blinking, Marcus took a step forward, then paused and let out a disgruntled sigh. It seemed like his safety measure actually worked.

The chair lay on the ground, Marcus' clothes strewn across the floor, his shirt lying haphazardly on a knee of one Tomas Ortega. Who was blinking stupidly, rubbing at his other knee which he probably ended up banging into said chair. Despite the fact, he didn't look much more lucid than Marcus felt.

"Oh Tomas," Marcus groaned and rubbed at his eyes, willing away the dark spots on the corner of his vision and the lurking headache. His body didn't handle well such awakening, especially not after a prolonged exorcism. "What were you even trying to do?" Marcus asked, and was actually startled when Tomas answered.

"Is there a fire?" Tomas asked and looked up from to floor, confused and a bit scared. Marcus shook his head and squatted down next to him, removing his shirt from Tomas' knee and standing the chair back up.

"No, Tomas. There is no fire. It was just a bad dream," Marcus explained, his patience being replaced by weariness.

"I saw flames," Tomas argued, shaking his head. Marcus saw the brown eyes open wide and lose focus just as Tomas become restless, trying to get off the floor.

'Necesito salir,' Tomas mumbled.

"Hey, hey. It wasn't real, Tomas. Look around... there are no flames, no fire. See? Just a boring motel room." Marcus made a sweeping motion with his arm, then tried cupping Tomas' face when it didn't seem to work. He brushed the hair off of Tomas' sweaty forehead, feeling that at least the fever seemed to be a bit down. Tomas leaned into the touch with a sigh.

"Lo siento, Marcus..." he muttered and when he looked up, Marcus could see some sense returning into his eyes. "Everything's mixed up," Tomas reached up, pointing towards his head.

"That's okay. You're exhausted and ill... all you need is some sleep. Let's get you back to bed, shall we?" Marcus moved to stand, but Tomas suddenly scrambled back and started shaking.

"Tomas?"

"I'm not ill, I swear... Don't send me away, I-I won't do it again, I promise," Tomas repeated, over and over again and Marcus felt like he was missing some key information.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Marcus snapped then berated himself when Tomas jerked at the tone and backed into a corner. Damn, it was like talking to a skittish animal, but one that could actually do some damage if it wanted. So, Marcus raised his hands placatingly and softened his tone.

"It's okay, Tomas. I believe you. No one is sending you anywhere, I promise."

Tomas frowned, giving Marcus an assessing look.

"You... believe me?" he asked, slightly disbelieving, and Marcus barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"Yes, I do. But... I had a long day, and I really want to get some sleep. So... come on. Let's just go to bed?"

"You look tired," Tomas agreed readily. Marcus snorted and offered him a hand.

"Trust me, I feel tired." Marcus steered him back towards his bed in the corner of the room... then paused in thought, even as Tomas settled down, his face hitting the pillow hard. Marcus could hear some muttered words and, while he wanted to lie down, really _needed to_ at this point, he had a nagging feeling that Tomas would be up again soon. And while staying awake was bad, being pulled from sleep was even worse. There was a fleeting thought of tying Tomas to the bed, but even Marcus sleep deprived mind couldn't justify such action. If anything, being tied down would just increase a chance of a violent nightmare. Tomas grumbled and turned his face on the pillow, restless. Marcus instinctively ran a hand over the back of his neck. Tomas let out a sigh and relaxed. When Marcus turned to leave, Tomas grew restless again. Marcus raised an eyebrow in thought.

"Okay, time for a bit of reorganizing I think," he said as an idea hit him. Maybe there was a way they both could get some good quality sleep, without the risk of Tomas wandering off and causing some mayhem.


	7. Chapter 7

For Tomas, the night was a series of dreams and images, the feeling of the heat coming from inside, the demon burning and the flames licking the walls of the room. He was only barely aware of the moments when he was moving about the room, of Marcus talking to him. At one point he thought he heard a woman scream in fright, but it was all lost in the heat. Until there was something blessedly cool covering his eyes and soothing words flowed next to his ear. There was a hand grasping the back of his neck, pushing away the ache, letting him relax into the softness of the pillow and be swept away into things long past...

-o-o-o-o-

The air was warm on his face as the six-year-old Tomas trudged next to his abuela through the dry and dusty streets of Mexico City. He had arrived to his new home only a week ago and he still wasn't used to the heat, the smells or the people. Even the language sounded strange to his young ears... he knew Spanish from his mom and the occasional visit from abuela, but his dad made sure that they all spoke English at home. That was until he left them, but Tomas didn't like to think about that anymore. In the last few months his family had fallen apart and Tomas was starting to feel more and more guilty. Maybe it was him who caused it? After all, his mom sent him away too.

"Do not worry, Mijo," his abuela spoke, squeezing his hand in her palm and giving him a huge smile. "Father Miguel will help us." Her English was broken and Tomas knew she was using it only to cheer him up, to make him feel better. Which meant that maybe there was a reason to worry. Still, she seemed confident and Tomas wanted to believe her.

"If he fixes me, can I go back home, Abuela?" he asked sheepishly, slipping back into the Spanish he often heard from his mom then bit his lip when he saw the look of sadness cross his abuela's face. She stopped and pulled him to the side of the walkway, squatting down so they were face to face. She put her hands on his face and smiled.

"Oh mijo, you don't need to be fixed. You are my sweet chico." She hugged him and put a wet kiss on his forehead, laughing when he grimaced and rubbed it off.

"But can I go home? I promise, I will be good. I won't get sick anymore," he begged, and she sighed, ruffling his hair.

"I thought you liked staying with me, mijo?"

"I do..." Tomas hedged. He didn't want to hurt her feelings. He knew how easy it was lately to make his mom cry and he didn't have any wish to upset his abuela that way. "I just... miss 'Liv." Then he sniffled, because it was true. He missed his big sister something fierce, especially at night. They used to stay awake and talk. Olivia used to turn on her flashlight and make shadow animals from her hands. Tomas missed her and his mother, the hugs she gave him, the cookies she made. The way she smiled at him and the look of love in her eyes. But that was all before the incident... before he became sick and scared them all.

"I know you miss them. But... Olivia will come visit soon," she assured him. "And I am so happy to have you here with me. I felt so lonely in that big house, it's nice to have someone with me again," she said and Tomas' lips twitched in a smile.

"Your house isn't _big_ ," he opposed and Abuela winked at him.

"Not now that you're there to keep me company. You wouldn't leave an old woman alone, would you, mijo?" she looked at him and Tomas could see hope in her eyes. That's when he realized that she truly wanted him there and that she was afraid of staying alone. Tomas could relate to that. He was scared of staying alone as well. So, he squared up his shoulders and gave a very serious nod.

"I won't leave you," he said, in his six-year-old heart as sure of his words as he could be. He didn't want anyone else to feel abandoned and alone, not if he could help it. "I'll stay with you, for ever and ever," Tomas promised and beamed as his abuela enveloped him in a tight hug.

"I knew I could count on you," she whispered into his ear and ruffled his thick hair. Then she stood up, showed her hand and wiggled her fingers enticingly. Tomas grabbed her hand and together they headed towards the church.

Tomas had been to churches before... they had one in Chicago, just a five-minute walk from their home and, while they didn't attend every mass, oftentimes Tomas and Olivia found themselves woken up on a Sunday morning to be paraded into the church. Despite having to dress up and be awake earlier than he preferred, Tomas actually liked the church. He was always in awe of the hugeness of the building, he liked singing along with the choir and, even though the droning voice of their old priest almost put him to sleep, he spent the time looking at the colorful glass panes and imagining stories about the people in them. Tomas liked the church, especially during the summer, because when their air-conditioning broke and the summer heat wave hit Chicago, the church was the only place that felt cool. On summers, Tomas and Olivia sometime slipped into the last pews, playing hide and seek and enjoying the cool air, until the old priest noticed them and ushered them out with a smile on his face.

The church where his abuela was taking him now was different. It seemed much smaller than the one in Chicago... at least it looked small from the outside, pressed between other buildings. But when Tomas entered, he was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of peace... and the cool air was like balsam on his too hot skin. Abuela dipped her fingers in the holy water by the door, knelt down and crossed herself and nudged Tomas to do the same. Tomas did so, not even noticing his abuela's eyes were watching him like a hawk. He was too busy looking around, taking in the rich decoration. There were colorful statues, large candles and paintings everywhere... beautiful chandeliers hung from the high roof and at the end there was a huge altar and a cross with Jesus. Tomas stepped further in, mouth hanging open in awe and jumped when somewhere above him the organ started to play. His abuela snickered.

"That's old Jerome... he's practicing for Sunday mass. Come, mijo. We need to find Padre Miguel."

Tomas nodded and closed his mouth, following his abuela deeper into the building. They paused by the confessionals. There was a sound of muttering, though Tomas couldn't make out any words. Abuela led him back to the pews and they sat down, praying and waiting.

A few minutes later, a young woman walked out of the confessional, followed by Padre Miguel. Tomas was surprised to see the priest was so young. He didn't look older than Tomas' own dad and, while Tomas thought his dad was old, the priest they had in Chicago was ancient when compared to Padre Miguel. Tomas' abuela quickly stood from the pew and headed towards the father, telling Tomas to stay where he was, that she would return soon.

Tomas nodded and watched as his abuela caught up with Padre Miguel. They started talking in quick Spanish and, even though Tomas tried to listen, their tones were hushed and he didn't dare go any closer. Biting his bottom lip, Tomas' legs dangled from the seat, not long enough to reach. He sighed and leaned over, resting his head on the pew in front of him, enjoying the feeling of the cool wood on his skin. His abuela was taking forever and when he threw a covert glance towards her, Tomas could see she was gesticulating and trying to prove some point. Padre Miguel looked a bit lost and tried to jump in and interrupt her, but gave up. Tomas smirked. When his abuela wanted something, she was going to get it, no matter what. Even if it was from the servant of God himself. Padre Miguel must've sensed his look, because he turned a bit and their eyes met.

Tomas blinked then blushed, embarrassed that he was caught spying. He fidgeted nervously and that brought a smile on the priest's face. Tomas smiled back in relief. It looked like Padre Miguel wasn't so bad. Their priest in Chicago would've surely frowned at him and told him he should be showing more respect in the sanctuary of God. Father Miguel instead raised his hand and gave Tomas a small wave. It served a double purpose.

Tomas instantly relaxed and his abuela stopped talking and turned to look back at him. Which made him fidget again. Father Miguel at least seemed to come to some decision, because he turned back towards his abuela and gave her a nod. She smiled too.

A few minutes later, Tomas was trudging next to his abuela, behind father Miguel. He seemed like a nice man when he came to Tomas sitting in the pew. Father Miguel reached out to offer a handshake and Tomas gave him his strongest one. His dad always taught him to give a strong handshake when dealing with strangers.

"That's a nice strong grip you have, young man," the priest spoke with a slightly different accent than what Tomas was used to. Maybe he wasn't from the City but Tomas was too polite to ask. He still understood most of the words being spoken, just needed to focus a bit more.

"Gracias, padre," Tomas returned with a shy smile.

"I heard you will be a new member of our parish. I'd like to welcome you here and maybe have a little talk, so we get to know each other. What do you say, Tomas?"

Tomas worried at his bottom lip and looked towards his abuela. He understood the words, but suddenly they made him nervous. Would this man think him bad too after he found out why he was sent away? Would he believe Tomas that it wasn't his fault? Tomas felt his breathing quicken in panic. What if the father told abuelita that Tomas was bad? Would _she_ send him away too? Suddenly the church around him felt stuffy, the air too thick and Tomas swallowed then licked his dry lips.

Abuela and the father shared a look and she quickly stepped in, putting a calming arm around his shoulders.

"It's alright, mijo. Padre Miguel just wants to talk. Nothing bad will happen."

The father seemed to understand the sudden fear and squatted down so he was on eye level with Tomas, who blinked up at him with wide eyes.

"Only talk, Tomas. I have cookies and a glass of cold water, if you'd like," he spoke slowly and clearly and Tomas looked up at abuela in question. When she just smiled, he gave a careful nod.

"I'm thirsty," he admitted sheepishly. The cookies sounded enticing as well, though his stomach gave a warning churn. Tomas followed the adults into a small room that served as father Miguel's office. The father pulled two chairs in front of his desk and pointed at them. Tomas hopped up on one of the chairs and looked around. The office seemed painfully plain when compared to the flashy decoration of the church. There was a cross on the wall and pictures of several saints Tomas didn't know. A library full of books with strange writings on them and a desk and chairs. Nothing else to distract his attention. Well, except for the plate of cookies. The father saw Tomas' eyes watching the plate, as well as him licking his lips, and with a smile he brought the plate to him and offered.

Tomas fidgeted on the seat and reluctantly took one cookie, but he didn't bite into it.

"Can I... can I have some water?" he asked then cleared his throat. Suddenly he felt parched.

"Of course. Water... how could I forget?" Father Miguel smiled. "Excuse me for a moment, I'll just fetch a glass of fresh water," he said and left the room. As he passed by abuela, they exchanged a look and she nodded. Tomas shrugged it off and nibbled at the cookie, his legs dangling in the air.

"You alright, mijo? You seem a bit flushed," his abuela said and brushed the hair out of his eyes, then sighed. "We should give you a haircut, before you ruin your sight," she admonished and Tomas shook his head in protest. He liked having longer hair... it was all curly and when he was really bored he could at least play with it.

"I like my hair," he grumbled, ignoring the look of exasperation as he managed to get cookie crumbs all over his pants.

"Yes, but it's summer, too hot for such long hair," Abuela said, while trying to discreetly get rid of the crumbs. Tomas just frowned and pointed at her own head.

"You have long hair too. We can shave them together?" he asked and there was a small impish smirk on his face. Abuela opened her mouth to tell him off, when father Miguel returned with a plate, bringing the glass of water and two cups of coffee.

"Here it is, young man. Water for you, and some coffee for us old people," he smiled and handed the glass to Tomas, who eagerly grabbed it. Without a second thought, he drank the whole glass in few big gulps. He felt such relief that he smiled and leaned back in the chair.

"Gracias, father," he said after a second when he noted both adults were watching him like hawks. He swallowed and a bit uncertainly handed the now empty glass to the father.

"Abuela?" he frowned, seeing the strange look on her face. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not, mijo," she said and smiled. The tension in the room somehow lessened and father Miguel sat in his chair. He also had a smile on his face, though there was a calculating look in his eyes. Tomas scratched at his hand, getting nervous.

"How are you feeling, Tomas?" the father spoke and Tomas looked at him carefully. "I heard you weren't feeling well before. I hope it's better now?"

"Y-yes, padre. I'm okay. I'm not sick anymore," Tomas said quickly, squaring his shoulders somehow defiantly.

"I'm glad to hear it," the priest said kindly and Tomas marginally relaxed. "Do you remember what happened back in Chicago?"

The tension was back and Tomas looked at his abuela with pleading eyes.

"It's alright, mijo. Just tell Padre Miguel what you remember." She nodded at him and took his hand in hers, squeezing it in support. Tomas gnawed at his bottom lip, then after a moment of thinking, shrugged.

"I was playing with Liv in the living room," Tomas started, recounting the game and the small argument they were having, but then he stopped. "I... I fell asleep, I think," he said with a shrug and leaned against his abuela's arm. "Then I woke up in a 'spital." He added in a whisper.

"Do you remember anything from when you were asleep? How... how did it feel?" the priest asked, obviously trying to keep his questions easy for the six year old while also trying to figure out what happened.

Tomas thought back to the incident and his face scrunched up in a grimace. He remembered something... several violent images, flashing in front of his eyes, the fear gripping his insides and the certainty that he was going to die, even though death was still a strange concept to grasp. There was the sound of screaming that wasn't his own but that made his skin crawl, smoke billowing in the air and the all encompassing feeling of terror. Amidst all the chaos though there was also something else. A calming voice speaking in a foreign language, over and over again, pushing those awful images into the back of Tomas' mind. And Tomas latched onto that voice like a lifeline and listened to its lilt until the images vanished and the world started making sense again.

Now he blinked open his eyes, not even realizing he had them squeezed shut and found himself being enveloped in his abuela's hug. He was shaking and she was rocking him slightly, whispering soothing words. The priest was squatting in front of them, a frown marring his own face.

Tomas sniffled then tried to extricate himself from the hug, feeling suddenly embarrassed by all the attention he was getting.

"M' fine," he muttered stubbornly. Abuela gave him another squeeze and let him slide out of her lap. The priest grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him up on his desk, then sit down on Tomas' chair. Now they were face to face.

"Tomas, can you tell me what just happened?" father Miguel asked softly, laying one hand on Tomas' shoulder.

Tomas shrugged.

"Tomasito, por favor," his abuela asked and Tomas looked at his dangling legs then sighed.

"I r'member some bad dreams. Lots of bad dreams. I heard a lady screaming, but it wasn't mum or Liv. I swear it wasn't them." He looked up at that, his eyes wide and serious and father Miguel nodded.

"That's okay, Tomas. What were those dreams about?"

But Tomas didn't want to remember that and he shook his head stubbornly.

"I can't. I don't wanna think about them." He glared at the priest, not caring what happened next, if he was going to be punished for his disobedience or not. He was _not_ thinking about those dreams, ever again.

The priest sighed, but didn't seem to be angry. Instead he squeezed Tomas' shoulder gently.

"That's okay, Tomas. I understand. Was there anything else? Besides the dreams and... the screaming?"

Tomas wanted to say no, to keep the voice in his mind a secret, but he knew it would be a sin to lie to a priest and he would end up in hell. If the dreams he had were any indication of what hell was, he really didn't want to risk it.

"There was a voice... a man. He... he spoke funny. But nice," Tomas added quickly, seeing the look of worry in the adults eyes. "He... he spoke nice. His words sent the bad images away."

At that the priest and abuela looked at each other, a bit confused.

"What was he saying to you, Tomas?"

"I don't know," Tomas admitted. "I think... I think he was praying. Then... then I woke up and that's all that happened I swear!" Tomas said frantically, willing the adults to believe him, to know he didn't do anything wrong.

"It is alright, Tomas, I believe you," the priest said and gave Tomas a reassuring smile. Tomas took in a deep breath and looked at his abuela. He was hoping this whole conversation would be over soon. The cookie he ate was sitting in his stomach hard as rock and he was still thirsty, but knew it would be rude to send the priest for more water. So, he licked his lips again and fidgeted on the desk.

"I can see you're getting bored, Tomas," the priest spoke easily, startling Tomas. "I have just a few more questions then I heard you and your abuela were headed for some ice cream."

Tomas blinked, because that was news to him and he straightened up, trying to look less bored. Ice cream in this heat was a treat he wasn't about to pass up. Both the priest and his abuela seemed amused by the change in his demeanor, but he ignored it. Adults were weird sometimes. He looked at father Miguel, waiting for the question and the mood sobered a little.

"Do you remember having those dreams since you woke up, Tomas?"

"The bad ones?" Tomas frowned then shrugged. "I dunno," he muttered and received a warning look from his abuela. He was supposed to tell the truth, that's what her eyes were saying.

"I have bad dreams... sometimes," Tomas admitted, then hedged. "But I never remember when I wake up." Which was a blessing in his opinion. It was enough he was waking up covered in cold sweat and with his heart beating wildly in his chest and a feeling that someone was playing soccer inside his skull. He didn't want to remember the images he saw.

"Do you sometimes wake up in strange places?"

Another shrug, but this time Tomas didn't answer, despite his abuela's glare. With a sigh, she supplied the answer.

"Sometimes he gets out of bed and walks around the room," she said and the priest turned to her.

"Is he speaking out loud?"

"No, sometimes muttering. I never understand him. Is that bad, father Miguel?" There was the worry again and Tomas bit at his lip and fidgeted. He was looking towards the door and his body became tense, ready to take flight. The priest sensed it and ruffled his hair.

"No, it is of no consequence. Kids his age tend to sleep walk. He will grow out of it, like everyone else," he added with a smile, then turned his focus back to Tomas. The mirth was suddenly gone and Tomas felt he couldn't look away from the priest, even though he desperately wanted to. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

 _"Indicere te spiritus daemonicus!"_ father Miguel said and Tomas frowned, trying to figure out if it was some other dialect of Spanish he was supposed to know.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't understand?" he piped up. The priest inclined his head and said several other sentences, but none of them made a lick of sense to Tomas. They sounded strange and foreign, even though some of the words sparked a memory of the voice inside his head, the man that helped push back the dark images. But he wasn't about to speak about it, not now when father Miguel spoke those same words. He didn't know what they meant, but they didn't feel safe... not now.

"Abuela?" Tomas asked and reached out, suddenly wishing to be in the arms of his grandmother. Father Miguel fell silent and abuela stood, picking Tomas off the table and sitting back down, with Tomas now sitting in her lap and glaring at father Miguel.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Tomas," he said sincerely and Tomas shrugged in reply.

"I'm not scared," he opposed, but didn't try to get out of his abuela's hug. The priest smiled.

"Of course not. Silly me, thinking a few strange words can scare you."

Tomas nodded in agreement and received a small slap on his thigh.

"Don't be cheeky with padre Miguel," abuela warned him, but there was no heat behind her words and Tomas wondered just what had happened.

"Sorry, padre," he muttered, a bit put out but unwilling to end up on his abuela's bad side. The priest chuckled and walked to the other side of his desk, ruffling through papers until he found a small book underneath. He listed through the pages, read a passage then nodded to himself.

"I know you're getting bored and can't wait to get some of that promised ice cream," he walked towards Tomas and his abuela, the small book in his hands. "I very much appreciate your patience, Tomas. I'm asking that you bear with me for a little while longer. Is it okay with you?"

There was really no good way to tell the priest that he wanted to leave, definitely not while sitting in his abuela's lap, so Tomas just nodded.

"Thank you. I'd just like to say a prayer, if you will. It is for protection and it might help stop your bad dreams. Would you like that, Tomas?"

This time Tomas' nod was more than sincere. If a prayer could stop the bad dreams, he would be happy to pray all day. Well, maybe not all day, but he could handle sitting in the soft lap of his abuela, instead of kneeling in the pews.

"Yes, please," he whispered and father Miguel gave him a grateful nod, then opened his book and started to speak.

 _"Father, I come into Your presence and in the name of your Son Jesus Christ, I claim the authority that You have given us as believer, that we shall tread upon serpents and scorpions and upon the full force of the enemy."_ Father Miguel's voice was strong and suddenly too loud in the small office, but Tomas didn't mind. He listened to the words and felt calmness envelope him. Word by word, the tension was leaving his body, along with the oppressing heat. And as father Miguel continued with more verses, somewhere in the distance, Tomas could hear another whisper, a familiar lilt of a voice, even more calming. He closed his eyes, leaned back into the embrace of his abuela and let both voices push out the darkness that was hiding in the small crevices of his mind, lurking and hissing.

 _"Father, I prepare myself for this spiritual warfare, I put on the helmet of salvation, the breastplate of righteousness, I put the belt of truth around my waist and wear the shoes of the Gospel of Peace. I now raise the shield of faith in my arm and I wield the sword of the Spirit in my right arm which is Your WORD!"_ Father Miguel boomed but Tomas was now hearing only the other voice. It belonged to a man, a man hidden in the shadows, slowly stepping out. Tomas couldn't see his face, but the man had a white shirt and a black vest. He wore the collar of a priest and in his hands there was a rusty crucifix and a bible and he was wielding them both as weapons.

Tomas felt the scratching inside his mind subside... the darkness become lighter and he could see that the priest, his savior had a stubble on his face and shining blue eyes. He was bringing light and in Tomas' six-year-old mind he looked like an angel.

The angel came up close to him, so close that Tomas couldn't see anything but the light, hear the words being spoken in a smoky voice, filled with so much strength and emotion that Tomas felt like weeping. There was a warm hand put on the back of his neck and Tomas let out a sob, leaning into the touch like it was bringing salvation.

And maybe it was. As the words continued to flow, Tomas felt the pressure inside his head grow, as if small tendrils of darkness were being pulled from their hiding places, like worms from an apple. It was a nasty feeling, a crawling pain heading to the nape of his head, just where the palm was.

 _"In the Name of Jesus of Nazareth, I bind and command all the powers and forces of evil to depart right now away from us, our homes, and our lands. And I thank You Lord Jesus, our rock, our stronghold and our refuge, for You are a faithful and compassionate God. AMEN!"_ With that last word, Tomas gasped as there was a fierce pain and then nothing, just peace and weariness, as someone's finger ran a cross over his forehead.

He blinked open his eyes and found he was face to face with father Miguel. The man with the blue eyes was gone and his face was slowly fading from Tomas' memory. There was a sudden feeling of loss, but that was chased away by a whisper of promise... _'just for now, hermano'_.

Tomas sniffled and rubbed at his eyes, feeling sleepy but strangely light, as if he could walk on clouds. He smiled at the priest a bit loopily.

"How are you feeling, Tomas?" Father Miguel asked and Tomas noticed the hand that was still resting at the back of his neck.

"Better," he replied, feeling it was the truth.

"That's good." Father Miguel stepped back and Tomas was suddenly enveloped in a strong hug. He turned to look at his abuela and was dismayed to see tears running down her face. He frowned and reached up to rub them away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but abuela just shook her head and planted a big kiss on his face.

"Nothing is wrong, mijo. Everything is good."

Tomas wanted to argue that people didn't cry when things were good, but his abuela was smiling now and while father Miguel had a bit of a strange look on his face, as if he was deep in thought, he wasn't frowning either. What was most important was that the pressure in Tomas' head was gone and he felt like he could breathe again.

After his abuela profusely thanked father Miguel and promised to be back for the Sunday mass, they bid farewell to the priest and headed for the promised ice cream. Tomas was on the verge of starting to skip happily next to his abuela, but something nagged at his mind. A thought he wanted to erase.

"Abuela?" he asked almost sheepishly, as they were waiting in the queue of the ice cream store.

"Yes, Mijo?" she smiled, thinking he was about to tell her which ice cream he wanted.

"Is there still something wrong with me?"

The smile didn't vanish from her face, though it changed into something different, something much more reverent. She knelt down and put a hand on his cheek.

"No, Tomas. There is nothing wrong with you. Not now, not ever."

While that answer should've made him happy, it didn't make much sense.

"But... what about those dreams? What about that voice?"

"God spoke to you, Mijo. He spoke through you!" she said fiercely and Tomas inclined his head. He heard only one voice and it was that of the angel. Somehow, he doubted God would be speaking to him with an accent.

"What... what did he say?" he asked, but his abuela seemed to ignore that question.

"You will do big things, Tomasito. You just have to follow in His footsteps and pray!" she said, proud and beaming and Tomas swallowed then put on a brave smile. He didn't understand what she was saying. He didn't feel like he could do big things, not now. But he nodded and hugged his abuela and swore he would do anything to make her proud.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N:_ _Here comes the last chapter, I hope you will enjoy it and that you liked the story:) Let me know your thoughts or if you want a sequel. Cheers! **  
**_

* * *

Reality was coming back to him slowly... waking up seemed to be a chore. As if his body was submerged in something wet and heavy, and when Tomas opened his eyes it was like breaking the surface. He blinked into the grey of the oncoming morning, heard the rain beating heavily against the window. It was the sound of the falling water that sent a signal to his brain and he realized the only reason he even thought of opening his eyes was the need to use the bathroom. With a sigh, Tomas moved his hand and rubbed at his eyes, feeling the strain the simple move put on his muscles. What made him freeze mid motion however was the touch of a warm hand on his waist that he hadn't noted before. Tomas frowned, feeling his heart skip, because the last thing he remembered was falling on his bed and there was definitely no space for another person to share. He swallowed. Was this just another dream? Or a vision? Slowly, very slowly he turned on the bed, letting the hand slip off his waist. Only to hear a grumbled "Tranquilo, Tomas. Todo esta bien." Tomas opened his mouth in surprise, while the hand returned to its place, this time landing on Tomas' stomach. "Tranquilo, bien." Marcus muttered, gave Tomas's stomach a pat then let out a snore.

Tomas didn't know what to do. He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, but he was too confused for that. He decidedly remembered there being two beds when they came to the room... now it seemed the beds were pushed together and against the wall. To top it off, at the foot of Tomas's bed was a table positioned in such a way that blocked his exit... and of course, Marcus was occupying the other bed. Stretched all out, lying on his stomach, with one hand under his head and the other laying comfortably on Tomas' stomach.

'What the hell happened?' Tomas thought and was about to ask just that, when he really noted the pallor on Marcus' face and the dark circles under his eyes. For the lack of better word, it looked as if Marcus had just managed to shut his eyes after a weeklong exorcism. Which might've been how Tomas felt, but he was pretty sure that when they left the house, Marcus looked less haggard. Tomas sighed and ran a hand over his face, noting the feel of dried sweet and a still wet yet warm towel right next to his head.

Great. It wasn't enough that Tomas let himself get into such a state, then let the demon almost get the better of him. Now he was doing who-knew-what and keeping Marcus from the rest he needed. Just another way to feel like a burden. Just another reason for the man to leave him behind... once again. Tomas swallowed the sudden nausea then licked at his dry lips. He was parched and at the same time felt sticky, covered in sweat. Weariness rushed over him just at the thought of moving, but his body let him know in no uncertain terms that there was a reason he woke up. With a groan, Tomas once again slowly extricated himself from Marcus' embrace, pausing as the man muttered more nonsensical words supposed to relax him back to sleep.

"Sorry, Marcus, but I really need to go," he muttered and stepped over the dangly legs, off the bed and almost face planted when a hand shot out and grabbed him by the pants. Tomas' eyes went wide, his arms waved in the air and for a second it looked like he was trying for a gymnast number, before he managed to right himself.

"I swear I'll tie you down," Marcus growled, eyes open to slits and his hand still clutching Tomas' pants leg. Tomas blushed, one hand grabbing at his pants so they didn't slip down, the other reaching for the bed table for some support, because the sudden movement made his head spin.

"Could you maybe first let me use the damn bathroom?" Tomas snapped, then winced. Nope, loud noises weren't recommended either. The grip on his leg was released and Tomas turned to face Marcus, who was sitting up in the bed, looking for all like something a cat dragged in.

"You awake this time?"

Tomas wasn't expecting that question. For a second it made him doubt if he really was awake, but surely, he felt too shitty for this to be a dream.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, confused. Marcus rubbed at his eyes, looked towards the window and the downcast weather, then gave Tomas an assessing look.

"You tell me. Is it normal for you to go on a walk in the middle of the night, half naked?"

Tomas blinked, his forehead scrunching up in thought as he tried to make sense of Marcus' words. Then something clicked in the back of his mind and he let out a simple "Oh."

Marcus shook his head in amazement.

"Just an 'Oh'? Do you mean to tell me your sleepwalking will be a daily occurrence?"

Tomas groaned and pushed his hands against his eyes, until he saw white.

"Shall I invest in a comfortable pair of handcuffs then?" Marcus asked with a blasted smirk on his face and Tomas blushed.

"What? No!" He shook his head and gave a defeated sigh. "I don't know," he admitted.

Marcus eyes quirked in interest and Tomas grimaced.

"I used to sleepwalk when I was a kid... after..." Tomas paused, his dreams and memories rushing back at him with vengeance and he took a step back, wavering. Marcus reached out to steady him, but Tomas shook off the hand, already feeling bad enough for his weakness.

"I just... need to use the bathroom," Tomas said and left Marcus sitting on the bed, a thoughtful look on his face.

Once he took care of his needs, Tomas paused at the sink, simply enjoying the feeling of cold water running over his hands. He felt like a coward, but he was hoping Marcus would be asleep by the time he left the bathroom, so he took his sweet time and at least washed off some of the dried sweat. While he considered taking a shower, his body let him know in no uncertain terms that it would appreciate being back in a horizontal position and Tomas blinked away the dark spots appearing on the verge of his vision. With a sigh, he knew it was stupid to wait any longer, it wasn't like Marcus would let something go so easily. He was like a pit-bull... once he bit into something, there was no power on earth to coerce him into letting go.

Just like he expected, Marcus was still awake, sitting in the bed with one hand resting on his raised knee, the other rubbing at his eyes. When he heard Tomas approaching, he looked up and Tomas was taken aback by the tired look on his face.

"About time. I was just mustering the energy to go and check if you weren't trying to run away through the ventilation window."

It was such an absurd idea that Tomas snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Running away is your thing, not mine," he muttered under his breath, then froze. "I... sorry. That was uncalled for," he shook his head, disgusted with himself.

Marcus just raised an eyebrow.

"Why? It's the truth, isn't it?" he said and Tomas winced at the self-deprecating tone of his voice.

"No. I didn't mean..." But Tomas knew that was a lie. Somewhere deep down he still felt angry with Marcus for actually leaving, for not returning sooner. He just had no energy to lie about it anymore. Tomas shrugged and wavered. He needed a place to sit, but one chair was strangely positioned by the door and the other was standing in the middle of the room but covered in clothes... the whole room looked like some obstacle course.

"Really? Was this necessary?" Tomas asked, pointing at his backpack also lying on the floor, right in the trajectory towards the door.

Marcus just shrugged.

"Didn't want another startled guest calling the cops on us."

Tomas closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the sentence. He had no luck, only managed to make himself dizzy. There was suddenly a hand on his arm and Marcus gruffly pulled him back towards the bed.

"For Christ sake, lie down before you crack your head open on something," Marcus muttered and scooted back a little so Tomas could crawl onto his side of the bed. Tomas frowned at him, wanting to protest such treatment, but there was really no other place to go. Both chairs were just too far away and he felt like his limbs were made of rubber. With a sigh, Tomas crawled past Marcus but didn't lie down... instead he settled sitting against the corner, facing Marcus.

"Any particular reason you wanted to share a bed with me?" he asked after a moment of silence. Tomas felt like all the fire had left his body. The fever was probably gone too, but it left him without energy, depleted.

Marcus shrugged and nodded towards the obstacle course.

"It calmed you down and I wanted to get some sleep too."

"Sorry for that. I can help you push the bed back now," Tomas offered, though truth be told, he didn't feel like moving and Marcus knew that, if his snort was anything to go by.

"You still look a bit peaky. My back really wouldn't appreciate a need for another move."

This time it was Tomas who snorted and shook his head.

"I'm fine-" he started saying but he paused at seeing the sudden angry look on Marcus' face.

"For Christ' sake, Tomas. When will you stop lying to me?" Marcus snapped. Tomas wanted to protest, but realized it was useless. Marcus was right after all.

"I don't know how often I need to repeat this, but I _won't leave you_ for being sick or messing up. Do you understand? I don't have a clue where you even got that stupid idea from. But God led me back to you and Mouse and I'm here to stay. Period."

The silence that settled in the room was strangely calm. Maybe because Tomas for once didn't argue, didn't try to cover up anything. Marcus looked at the younger man, unsure if he was still even awake. Their eyes met and Tomas gave a small nod of acceptance. Marcus felt as if someone lifted a weight off his shoulders and let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

"When I let that demon inside my head," Tomas spoke softly, his voice barely breaking through the sound of the raindrops hitting the window angrily and Marcus inclined his head to hear better, not wanting to miss a word. "I think it had found a memory I myself had buried a long time ago."

Marcus frowned and sat up a bit straighter. He put a hand on Tomas' outstretched leg and nudged him to continue.

"I had a vision - before the Rance family. When I was six."

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He was hoping at least one of them had a happy childhood, unspoiled by the work of evil, but it seemed that not even Tomas was spared. Marcus knew how violent the visions were on Tomas as an adult, he couldn't even imagine having a six-year-old child having to deal with them. And for what purpose?

"It was just before I was sent away," Tomas continued, his breath hitching a bit. "Actually, I think that was the reason why abuela took me in."

"What did you see?" Marcus couldn't help but ask and he could feel a slight shiver run through Tomas' body, down through his legs.

"Things I didn't want to remember. Not then, and not now. Awful things that no child should see."

Marcus didn't push.

"I'm sorry," he said instead, and Tomas smiled.

"You are the last person who needs to apologize for that, Marcus," he said gently and cleared his throat. "I thought... I thought I was in hell... that I was going to die. But then... there was a man in the shadows. I didn't see his face clearly, only his eyes... shining blue eyes and a voice that made me feel at peace, made me feel safe."

"I thought... I thought you hadn't felt God before... before Angela," Marcus said, his throat closing up.

Tomas shook his head and leaned forward, putting his hand on the one Marcus lay on his leg.

"It wasn't God, Marcus. It was you."

"What?" Marcus pulled back, startled. "That... that doesn't make any sense," he said, shaking his head, trying not to see the hurt in Tomas' eyes. "It had to be the demon, just playing tricks on you."

Tomas' face hardened.

"It wasn't. I know I didn't remember this before, but... ever since the first moment we met, I knew you seemed familiar. I knew I could trust you. Now... now I know why."

Marcus was silent, his thoughts all over the place. He didn't need any more evidence to know where his place was, not since that day on the pier. He felt God, _heard_ Him, and the message he received was clear. Find Tomas and stay with him. Tomas on the other hand seemed to be lost between doubts and uncertainty about the origin of his 'gift' and its use. Mouse's soldier training didn't help much in that matter, maybe just added more questions. Still, the knowledge _something_ used the image of Marcus to communicate with a six-year-old child sent shivers of apprehension down his spine.

"Are you sure it was me?" he couldn't stop the question from slipping out and Tomas let out a dry chuckle.

"Hard to mix up that accent of yours with anyone else... or those eyes," he added softly.

"How long?"

"How long what?" Tomas frowned.

"How long did those supposed visions last? How come you didn't remember sooner?" Marcus waved his hand in the air as if asking the universe. His voice was curt and Tomas tensed at the clearly notable doubt.

"Nothing supposed about them," he answered a bit curt himself, then shook his head with a sigh. He didn't want to fight and until he could call Olivia and ask her a few questions himself, Marcus was right, this could all be just some scheme of the demon. Although Tomas had no clue to what purpose. "About why I didn't remember... maybe I tried to forget. It wasn't the happiest part of my life, what with dad leaving, our lack of money due to medical bills and... being sent away."

"Do you remember your nightmares when you were six-years-old?" Tomas asked after a moment of silence. Marcus closed his eyes.

Yes, he remembered perfectly well. Even at six he could remember the smell of cheap booze, the screaming and the fights. And there was no power on this world that could erase the day when he fired that shotgun and killed his own father. But Tomas was different, his nightmares were different. They were in his mind and while that would have been horrifying, Tomas could always wake up. For Marcus there was no reset button, no waking up. Marcus had to live his nightmares out and as such couldn't ever forget them.

"I know that trusting what a demon shows me is stupid. And maybe it really was just my imagination, I don't know."

"Olivia would know though, wouldn't she?" Marcus asked and could see some of the tension leaving Tomas' body.

"Yes. I'll ask her... next time."

"Good. So... did you have any other prophetic dreams tonight? You seemed to be... somewhere else."

Tomas blushed and lowered his eyes.

"They weren't prophetic, no... just... memories."

Marcus raised an eyebrow and gave Tomas' leg an imploring squeeze.

"Tell me."

So, Tomas told him, about the sleepwalking, about his abuela's concern. He spoke about father Miguel and the first day he met him, about the questions in the office and the ritual.

"Now that I remember, I'm pretty sure it was the prayer of deliverance," Tomas finished and cleared his throat. Marcus leaned over and handed him the half full bottle of ginger ale. Tomas took it with a look of thanks, though he grimaced at the room temperature of the drink, but felt it settle well on his empty stomach.

"Did it work? The deliverance prayer?" Marcus asked when Tomas put the lid back on the bottle and rested his head back against the wall, eyes half closed.

"Yes, it did. I could feel something right then and there... the darkness leaving. It felt... freeing," Tomas said with a slightly wistful tone. 'I wish I could feel free now,' he thought, but didn't say it out loud. He was past the point where such wishes could be uttered or even delivered. He didn't deserve it and didn't expect it. God seemed to have a plan of his own anyway and who was Tomas Ortega to have an opinion about that.

"So, no more sleepwalking or nightmares?"

"No. I was... for all purposes of that term... normal." Tomas said with a small smirk and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He needed more rest but it was already morning and he didn't know what the plan for the day was... or the next few weeks. At the moment he couldn't care less.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm in a tug-o-war," Tomas spoke and looked at Marcus, a bit amazed that he still had the man's unwavering attention.

"Both sides trying to pull you over?" Marcus offered, catching up on what he meant and Tomas nodded.

"Except it feels like they're ripping me apart instead. Don't know if this is a gift from God or a curse-" Tomas let the sentence hang with a shrug.

"Ever thought it is neither?" Marcus spoke up and Tomas blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe it's just who you are, Tomas. Something you were born with," Marcus tapped at his forehead. "Something both sides figured they could use."

"So, what... the demons send me visions?"

Marcus shrugged.

"You have skills, Tomas. Everyone just wants to sway you to their side."

Tomas thought about it. Was it better to think about his visions like that... just a skill? Or to think that God let him see the horrors of hell at the tender age of six? Tomas closed his eyes, letting out a groan. No, if God sent Tomas something, it was Marcus. When he was six and then again, with the first vision after Angela's visit.

"I think God meant us to fight this together since the start." Tomas was surprised he spoke out loud, even more when Marcus snorted.

"I have been telling you that since I came back," Marcus reminded him with a grin and Tomas didn't know what to say to that. Maybe just 'Right, I'm an idiot'. But that sounded too much like admitting his shortcomings and Tomas didn't want to let Marcus off the hook so easily either, not for leaving.

There was a rumbling sound of thunder coming from outside and Tomas shuddered. The fever was gone but now it left him bereft of the heat and the room didn't seem so warm anymore. But the bed was too comfortable to leave and get his shirt and his head felt too empty.

"You don't have to figure it all out today," Marcus told him gently, patting his leg then moving it a bit out of the way so he could lie back down. "The room is ours until tomorrow, no questions asked. I wouldn't want to drive in this weather anyway. So, hunker down, and later we can go grab some food. Right now, I need to sleep. _Someone_ kept me awake the whole night."

Tomas snorted, but didn't protest. A yawn broke out on his face and before he knew it, his head hit the pillow. He didn't even care about the fact that he was practically boxed in between the wall and Marcus' lanky form, taking up a surprisingly large space. The sound of rain was overriding the jumble of thoughts inside his mind. Maybe he could even try and get some sleep.

A few minutes later, there was a rustle of sheets as Marcus changed his position and a warm hand landed on Tomas's side. Tomas opened his mouth to say something, but there was a soft snore and he didn't have the heart to wake the older man up. So, he just sighed and closed his eyes again. Strangely enough, the warmth of the touch helped to ground him and calm his turbulent mind. Tomas didn't move away and finally fell into a deep sleep... dreaming of a pair of blue eyes and a friendly voice chasing away all the demons.

 **The End**


End file.
